


Holiday Interlude

by like-waves-on-the-beach (alliecameron)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, cs christmas fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:02:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 39,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8926822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alliecameron/pseuds/like-waves-on-the-beach
Summary: Christmas Fic. Au. Emma Swan needs a break so she heads to Boston for the holidays season. Rated M





	1. December 20th

**Author's Note:**

> A month or so ago I read a post someone had blogged about christmas fic and I decided I would create something this year. This fic will be posted over the next seven days on the respective date. I hope you enjoy it. It may seem a little slow to begin with but it will definitely pick up.
> 
> Special thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones for her beta skills and for guiding me in the right direction.
> 
> There is a fabulous manip created by just-be-magnificent for this story but I can't see to add to this chapter. I'm not the most technical minded person. Sorry!
> 
> Will also be posted on Tumblr and FFN

 December 20th

 

Emma shivered as she pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, trying desperately to keep the expected cold from her neck. She then tugged her hat a little more securely onto her head, down over her ears, and laced her wool-covered fingers together, securing her gloves.  With one last look, she grabbed the handle of her moderately-sized pull-along suitcase and finally exited the airport.

When she decided to spend Christmas in Boston, it seemed an excellent idea. The thoughts of snow and obscurity pulling her from the small town she had made her home. And Boston did not disappoint, at least on the snow side, she was hit with huge, soft, white flakes as soon as she moved away from the automatic doors. She scurried quickly to the line of white cabs she could see over to the side of the busy airport arrivals section, maneuvering expertly around her fellow travelers. If there was one thing she was absolutely an expert on, it was dodging overzealous commuters and travelers. Her many hours traveling, pursuing someone else’s dreams had been a great teacher.

She signaled with a semi-free hand to a driver, her overlarge shoulder bag slipping as she did so. She quickly grabbed the bag, not wanting to break her laptop that was tucked securely into the soft leather confines. The man quickly climbed out of the car and jogged the short distance to her, taking her suitcase and heading back.

Emma pulled the back door open and slid in, brushing the snow off her coat and shaking her head slightly, her braids swinging with the movement. It was a thing she did whenever she traveled; French braided her hair to help avoid the _bad hair_ incidents that could arise from leaving it hanging down past her shoulders in her usual style. Now she was as glad as ever as her long hair would probably be frizzy and unsightly due to both the flight, the layover, and the snow.

The driver jumped in behind the steering wheel, blowing on his hands. “It’s getting colder,” he said, his voice light and friendly.

“Is the snow expected to keep up?” Emma asked as she dug around her huge bag, looking for the piece of paper with the Bed and Breakfast’s address.

“Yeah, I think it’s here for the holidays,” he answered as he started the engine. Emma smiled, looking forward to snuggling with a good book in front of a roaring fire with the snow falling at the window. She finally found the address and read it out for the driver.

Twenty minutes later, and Emma grinned at the brownstones that lined the street they were traveling down. Each home looking picturesque and elegant. The car stopped in front of one of the row houses, and Emma quickly exited the warmth of the car, staring up at the house that would be her home for the next five days.

An elaborate sign hung from an iron post secured in the ground of the small garden that adorned the front of the house, advertising _Charming’s Bed and Breakfast. A little piece of home on the road_. She could see a huge Christmas tree through the bay window, its lights twinkling brightly and invitingly, and there was a holiday wreath hanging on the wide double door, deep green with vibrant holly berries. The taxi driver brought her suitcase to her side and Emma handed him his fare with a healthy tip, after all it was the holidays.

“Thanks,” he grinned to her and headed back to his car.

“Merry Christmas,” Emma called after him, and he waved his hand in acknowledgment.

She grabbed the handle of her rather heavy suitcase and clumsily headed for the stone steps that led up to the front door. She had only taken a few steps when the door opened, and a figure bounded eagerly down the steps.

“Ms. Swan?” the light-haired man asked with a smile.

“Yes,” she answered, beaming at him.

“Great,” he acknowledged quickly and took the suitcase from her, lifting it easily and heading back up the stairs with Emma following. As soon as she entered the foyer of the house, she was enveloped in warmth and the smell of cinnamon and apples.

The guy who helped her was shaking the snow off himself as he walked further into the house, her suitcase still in-hand. He was passed in the hallway by a woman with dark hair and a bright smile, who was wiping her hands on an apron and leaving streaks of flour on the material.

“You must be Ms. Swan,” she said, brushing a hand absentmindedly at her face and leaving behind a line of flour. “Welcome to Charmings Bed and Breakfast.”

“Thank you,” Emma returned as she moved further into the house, gawking at the exquisite woodwork evident in the hallway in the form of intricate carvings on the newel post at the bottom of the stairwell and the solid wood crown moldings. “Wow, this place is amazing,” she commented as she pulled off her gloves, unwrapped her scarf and tugged off her hat, her blonde braids flying in the process.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “We love it. Now let’s get you out that coat and into the warmth. I have the coffee pot on, or there’s tea if you’d prefer. Or if you’re feeling adventurous, I have some mulled cider simmering away.”

Emma grinned as she began unfastening her wool coat, “Ya know, I think I’ll take some of the cider. It smells divine.”

“Great,” her host turned and took a step back in the direction she had emerged from. She stopped short and spun quickly back to face Emma. “I’m sorry. I seem to have lost my manners. I’m Mary Margaret Nolan, and you’ve met David, my husband.”

“Emma,” Emma said back as she shrugged out of her coat.

‘Okay. Just leave your coat there,” Mary Margaret pointed to a coat stand beside the door. “David will take it up to your room. Go and make yourself comfortable in the parlor.” Mary Margaret pointed out the room with a wave of her hand as she again made off down the hallway.

Emma hung her coat on the stand, draping her scarf over the hook as well, along with her hat and gloves stuffed into the pockets of her cream-colored coat. She flipped her braids forward to hang over the front of her shoulders as she walked through the archway and into the _parlor,_ smiling slightly at the old-fashioned name. She was immediately drawn to the wood-burning fire, blazing brightly, the crackling of the wood and the snapping of the flames sounding like music to her ears. Her feet automatically moved toward it, her hands stretched out, hungry for the warmth. The mantel was a rich mahogany with intricate designs etched into the wood and was adorned with a green Christmas garland with red berries and golden _presents_ intertwined within it, and above that was a lavish mirror, mounted in the same wood as the mantel.

Emma took a quick look at her hair, sighing at the wisps that had escaped the braids then turned her attention to the huge tree in the window. She was a sucker for a good Christmas tree, loving that far more than any other of the festive decorations. As she moved closer, the smell of pine hit her nostrils and her fingers reached out tentatively as she took a closer look at some of the ornaments hanging on the branches. There were a few baubles which had the year printed upon them, ranging from 2010 to 2016 and covered in glitter.

“One for each married year,” a deep, accented voice answered her observation, and Emma spun around quickly  to see a man sitting completely at ease in a large armchair, half-hidden across the room. “It’s one of their stupid traditions,” he continued to inform her. “They make one every year at some store downtown.”

Emma nodded at him, wondering why he hadn’t announced his presence when she had first entered the room.

He lifted the flask in his hand and brought it to his mouth and took a drink, his eyes holding hers. Emma watched hypnotically as his lips encased the neck of the flask and his Adam’s apple bobbed with the action of him swallowing the liquid. She’d seen plenty of men in her time taking a simple drink, but this guy, the way his eyes never left hers as he drank, it was sensual and alluring. Emma almost took a step toward him but stopped when Mary Margaret entered the room, carrying a large silver tray with a glass pitcher of amber liquid, and a few Irish Coffee mugs.

Mary Margaret quickly placed the tray on a round, dark wood end table and smiled over to Emma. “I see you met one of our other guests,” nodding in the direction of the man who had yet to introduce himself, and Emma snapped herself out of her self-induced catatonic state.  “We are actually pretty empty,” Mary Margaret continued, “there is just another elderly couple visiting from Arizona. So, if you’re not happy with your room, we can move you to another.”

“I’m sure it will be fine,” Emma answered as she moved closer to Mary Margaret and watched as the other woman carefully poured some mulled cider into one of the glass mugs.

Mary Margaret turned and handed her the beverage with a smile. “This should warm you up.”

Emma gratefully took the steaming cup from her and inhaled the spicy scents. She blew on the hot beverage, hoping to cool it enough to partake in, and after a moment, cautiously took a sip. The spiced drink seemed to almost immediately warm her body as soon as she swallowed, then she caught the kick of the rum. “Wow,” she said with a smile. “Now that certainly hits the spot.”

“Too much rum?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyebrows furrowed in question.

“Not for me,” Emma answered as she took another sip. It had been a very long day for her, starting early this morning with Elsa, her best friend in the world, begging her not to go away for the entire holiday. Elsa understood why Emma felt the need for a break from their small, gossip-fueled town, but it was the holidays, and Elsa knew only too well how Emma was affected by this time of the year. She worried how Emma would react this Christmas, after the recent events that had rocked her friend’s life. After she had escaped from Elsa’s grasp, promising to call daily and spend a significant amount of time on her cell phone, Emma hopped on the plane. Shehad spent an excruciating 12 hours traveling, including a three-hour layover in Washington D.C. In Emma’s eyes, the rum was most welcome after finally arriving at her destination.

“Would you like some, Killian?” Mary Margaret turned to the guy in the armchair.

He smirked at her and tipped the flask in his hand toward her.

“I guess not,” she laughed as she turned back to Emma. “I bet Killian hasn’t bothered to introduced himself?”

Emma shook her head, her eyes involuntarily flickering back to the guy as she moved closer to an armchair by the fire and sank into its soft cushions, taking another sip of her drink.

“No surprises there, then,” Mary Margaret laughed as she poured herself a glass full of the mulled cider. Once she had finished, she made the introductions.

“Emma, this is Killian Jones. An old friend who’s a pain in the ass but a paying guest, so we tolerate him,” Mary Margaret said with a smile and an open hand in Killian’s direction.

“Now, lass,” Killian said indignantly, his British accent rolling pleasantly off his tongue. “Less of the old,” and he smirked at her.

“I was implying we have known each other for a long time. We’re practically the same age, remember?” Mary Margaret retorted with a roll of her eyes. “Notice he didn’t complain about being called a pain in the ass,” she stage-whispered to Emma. Mary Margaret turned back to Killian. “Killian, this is Emma Swan.”

“A pleasure, Love,” Killian acknowledged the introduction, and Emma smiled as she said, “Hi.”

“This is where everyone is,” David said as he entered the parlor and looked to Mary Margaret. “I’ve changed the sheets for Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson, taken Ms. Swan’s things up to her room, and put the order in for the groceries.”

From his chair, Killian made a whipping noise. Emma suppressed a giggle.

“Did you leave me fresh towels?” Killian asked his friend.

“You know where they are,” David replied as he poured himself a glass of mulled cider, then crossed the room to refill Emma’s.

Killian looked over to Emma, catching her pale green eyes with his striking blue. “Do you really want to stay here? Next, they’ll have you making breakfast.”

“God, I hope not. For the sake of the other guests,” Emma returned with a laugh.

“I’ve taken the liberty to light a fire in your room. I hope that’s okay?” David said to Emma.

“Are you kidding? Thanks, that’s awesome.”

This is why she wanted to spend her time in a homey bed and breakfast. For the small personal added extras that make all the difference.  A roaring fire and the snow outside were both a super bonus.

“Feel free to use this room whenever you want,” Mary Margaret said to Emma. “Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson hardly use it, so your only other possible companion would be Killian.”

“I’m just here to make the numbers and see the sights,” Killian interjected with a raised brow and a smirk.

“And,” Mary Margaret continued, ignoring Killian, “the dining room is just opposite.” Emma turned to see where Mary Margaret was indicating. he saw the room through a grand archway made of the same rich mahogany as the wood in the hallway and the parlor.

“Breakfast is usually served from 7am, but these past couple of weeks we’ve had limited guests, so if you want anything before 8 just let me know. Otherwise, the buffet will be available from 8am.”

Emma laughed. “I’m hoping not to be out of bed before 9. Will that be a problem?”

“Not at all,” Mary Margaret echoed Emma’s laughter.

Emma finished her drink, and when David moved to replenish her glass, she stopped him. “Oh, no more, thanks, or it will go straight to my head,” she said. “Actually, I think I’m just gonna go and…”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Mary Margaret gushed, jumping quickly from her own seat beside her husband on an antique loveseat. “You must be exhausted. Let me show you to your room.” Mary Margaret took the glass back from Emma, placing it and her own carefully on the silver tray and headed from the room.

Emma turned to David and Killian. “Nice to meet you both.”

“You too,” David returned with a smile while Killian winked at her as he took another drink from his flask. “Don’t worry about him,” David explained. “We’re still working on disabling that British charm.”

“Good luck with that,” Emma answered good-heartedly as she left the room to David’s laughter.

The room the Nolan’s had allotted to Emma was magnificent, dominated by a large, rich, rosewood four-poster bed. Emma couldn’t resist the urge to jump onto the overstuffed mattress, covered with a luxurious rose-colored damask comforter. One of her untold secret wishes was to sleep in a bed like this, but never had the opportunity before. What amazed her more was the fact that she hadn’t booked this specific room, but now it was hers for the duration of her vacation. She jiggled a little with excitement, thankful no one could see her small girly moment. She’d never live it down.

On either side of the bed were matching rosewood bedside tables, each adorned with elaborate lamps. Also, there was a matching wood desk sitting between the two huge windows that looked down upon the street. At the foot of the bed was an ornate loveseat made with the same wood and upholstered in matching damask to the bedcovers, the drapes at the windows, and the canopy of the bed. This seat faced the roaring fire, and Emma immediately envisioned herself curled on the sofa, reading a good book after a long day of sightseeing.

To the right side of the fireplace, and set back in a recess, there was an armoire, echoing the same wood as the other furniture, which Emma suspected held a TV. On the other side, in another recess, there was a large antique wardrobe. In fact, the whole of the furnishings in the room matched and all had an old world feel to them.

On the back of the main door, she saw her coat hanging on a hanger with her hat, scarf, and gloves on the hook. She noticed that David had placed her suitcase on one of those folding suitcase tables and smiled gratefully to herself. On the small wall between the door and the one to the bathroom was a matching dresser with four drawers and two cupboards. Above this was an elegant mirror. On the dresser, there was a small tray with a portable electric kettle, a small bowl full of packets of coffee, hot chocolate and an array of individually wrapped teabags.

Emma climbed off the bed and headed to her bathroom. She practically melted at the sight of the deep whirlpool tub, separate shower, and double basins, all surrounded by light marble. She didn’t bother opening the other door in the bathroom, knowing full well the toilet would be housed there. She then moved to the dresser and opened the cupboards to find one held a small refrigerator. She smiled. The pale rose walls finished the room to perfection. They certainly thought of everything.

A half hour later, Emma had unpacked her belongings and was settled on her loveseat with her book. The fire was still blazing, the snow was still falling, her iPod was playing soft music on the dock beside the bed, and she was content.

...

 

 


	2. December 21st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter of my christmas fic.  
> Thank you so much for the interest shown for this fic, its been beyond fantastic and I hope that continues.  
> Again, huge thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones for her beta skills and keeping me on the straight and narrow with this fic. You're the best.

December 21st 

The following day, around noon, Emma joined the swarm of people bustling along the streets of downtown Boston. The snow had stopped falling during the night, but the streets were still covered in several inches. She had spent the last half hour wandering around St. Paul’s Cathedral. She wasn’t exactly a religious person, but there was something about a church that always pulled her in, the majesty of the buildings never ceased to amaze her.

She was now making her way to a used bookstore, reported to be one of the oldest in America. Books were one of her things, and she couldn’t pass the opportunity to browse the shop’s vast stock. She casually perused the shelves, occasionally pulling a book out, reading a little, and then returning it to its place. So engrossed was she in the books, that she didn’t see the person next to her until she bumped into him, causing both of them to drop the books they were looking at.

“Sorry,” she apologized automatically before turning to the guy. “Oh!” She was surprised to see the guy from the B & B there.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and then, noticing who it was, continued, “Emma, right?”

“Yeah,” she grinned. “Kevin?” she asked, purposely getting his name wrong.

“Killian,” he smiled, picking both their books up from the floor.

“Oh, right, Killian,” she countered, taking her book from him. “So, are you sightseeing, too, or just looking for old books?”

“A little of both,” Killian answered.

Emma returned her book to the shelf, and then picked another further down the stack. “Is this your first time in Boston?” she asked cordially.

“No, I’ve been here a few times visiting David and Mary Margaret,” he answered, repeating her actions with his book.

“So, you’ve seen the sights already?”

“Some,” he said vaguely, then he sighed. “Mary Margaret kicked me out the house, telling me to do something dangerous, like enjoy myself.” Emma giggled at this, and Killian smiled again. “Yeah, she can be a little pushy. I swear she thinks she’s my mother at times,” he continued.

“I didn’t think she would be that pushy,” Emma observed.

“Wait until you’ve known her a few years,” Killian snorted.

Emma found a book that could be interesting and indicated to Killian that she was going to the checkout. “Well, I may see you around then,” she said with a smile.

“Aye, lass,” he answered with a slight nod of his head, before starting off in the other direction.

Three hours later, Emma stood outside the Old South Meeting House, debating whether to go in. It had started snowing again, and she really wanted to just sit and watch the snowfall and the people trying to dodge the huge flakes. As she stood there, a figure came to a stop behind her.

“You know, the sightseeing thing only works if you go in, love,” a deep voice said, and Emma whizzed around to see Killian standing behind her.

“Are you stalking me, Mr. Jones?” she asked half-jokingly.

“Ha,” Killian grinned. “I knew you remembered my name.”

Emma dipped her head with embarrassment at her pretense earlier. Of course she remembered his name. She remembered his eyes, too, and his lips.

“And no, I’m not stalking you.”

“How did you know it was me?” Emma asked him. After all, he had approached her from behind.

“Oh come on. I’m sure there are very few people around here with such a crazy matching set,” and he tugged on the length of her scarf.

Emma looked down at her scarf and gloves. They were white wool, patterned with gray snowflakes, the scarf even had faux fur bobbles. The insides of the gloves and hat were soft and furry. Emma had fallen in love with the set as soon as she saw them while she had been internet shopping from her apartment, looking for winter clothing for her trip.

“Killian, take a look around. Everyone is wearing stuff like this,” she said to him, spreading her arms to the area around them, and Killian actually looked, realizing how right she was.

“Yeah, well, I just knew it was you,” he finally said.

“Because you’re stalking me,” she added with a smile.

“Am not!” he argued back.

“Okay, Mr. _I’m not a stalker_ , have you seen inside?” and she indicated to the red brick building.

Killian shook his head. “Uh-uh, no way. Churches give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“How on Earth can a church give you the heebie-jeebies? It’s a church. A holy place.”

“Yeah, where people worship a dead guy,” he answered deadpan.

“Well, I’m going in,” she said, instantly making her mind up.

“Okay, I’m going to the old bookstore around the corner.”

“Another bookstore?” Emma asked, intrigued. Killian, at first glance, really did not seem like the type of guy who knew how to read, never mind actually enjoy it. With his dark jeans and his leather jacket he looked more like a guy who would be comfortable at a biker bar rally or something.

“Yeah,” Killian smirked at her. “Something wrong with that?”

“No,” she grinned back to him. “Well, I’m gonna head in,” she said, hooking her wool-covered thumb over her shoulder to indicate the way she was going.

“Okay,” Killian responded. “Maybe I’ll catch ya later, lass,” he added, nonchalantly.

“Probably,” Emma returned.

“Probably?” Killian asked, maybe more than a little excitement in his voice than he intended.

“Well, we _are_ staying at the same place,” Emma reasoned with a sly smile.

“Oh, yeah, right,” Killian fumbled.  “Okay, then, enjoy your church.”

“Enjoy your books,” Emma threw over her shoulder as she headed into the building.

Killian shook his head as he sauntered down the street toward the old bookstore.

Emma made it back to the house just as the snowflakes began to whip a little fiercer. She berated herself for not stopping and having something a little more substantial to eat than a grilled cheese sandwich and a cup of soup for her lunch.  She wondered if the Nolan’s would mind her ordering take-out.

When she entered the foyer, she stomped her boots and shook her head to try and get the excess snow off, attempting to eliminate the trail of wetness she could potentially trek through the house. She took her coat off and dropped it to the floor, along with her hat, scarf, and gloves. She leaned down to remove her boots, thinking that would be the better option, and was promptly bumped in the ass by the door opening again. She toppled forward, crashing onto her knees on the hardwood floor.

“Oh, shit,” Killian called as he watched her fall, leaning forward to try and catch her before she hit the ground but failing. “Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“No thanks to you,” Emma muttered as she turned to sit on her butt, her palm rubbing her knee.

“Let me help you up,” he offered, extending his hand to her. Emma looked up at him skeptically. “Come on,” he grinned.

Emma tentatively slipped her hand into his, and Killian pulled her to her feet. As soon as she was standing again, pain shot through her knee, and she let out an involuntary hiss.

“Oh, shit, are you hurt, love?”

“No, it’s okay,” Emma insisted as she attempted to move further into the house. The pain shooting through her leg stopped her in her tracks.

Killian moved swiftly and swept her into his arms, carrying her into the parlor despite her protests.

“Killian, put me down,” she demanded, her hand swatting him lightly on his chest, but she couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across her face. That was another check off her _to-do_ list: Being swept off her feet by a handsome man. A handsome British man at that.

Killian ignored her. Instead, he called out as he walked, “Mary Margaret, can you bring some ice?” He settled Emma on the loveseat in front of the fireplace, arranging her legs so they were propped up on the upholstery, just as Mary Margaret dashed into the room, an ice pack in her hands.

“What happened?” she asked, taking in the scene in front of her.

“I … erhm …” Killian started.

“He knocked me on my ass,” Emma snorted.

“Actually, love, it was your knees,” Killian corrected her with a half-smile.

Emma narrowed her eyes at him as Mary Margaret handed her the ice pack, and she pressed it onto her aching knee.

“Killian!” Mary Margaret chided, shocked. “You are not supposed to injure the guests.”                 

“It wasn’t my fault, lass,” Killian exclaimed. “She was just inside the door bending down. I didn’t see her.”

Mary Margaret looked over to Emma, and Emma had the grace to look contrite. “I was taking my boots off. I didn’t want to trek snow through the house.”

“See, it wasn’t completely my fault,” Killian smiled.

“Not completely,” Emma admitted.

“You know,” Mary Margaret said after looking between them, “maybe the ice pack would work better if it had closer contact to your injury.”

“Probably,” Emma agreed. “I’ll just take it up to my room.” She swung her legs from the sofa to the ground and cautiously stood. The pain seemed to have subsided, and she smiled… until she took a step, then her face contorted in agony.

“Maybe you should just stay here?” Mary Margaret offered, and made to move her back down on the couch.

“No,” Emma grimaced. “It’ll be better if I put the ice directly on my knee. It’ll be fine once I get up to my room.”

Killian shook his head and stepping closer he lifted Emma into his arms once more. He moved with ease through the house and up the wide stairs to her room. He stood outside her room for a moment, and Emma wondered if he needed to be told to enter, when he asked, “Do you have your key?”

Emma’s mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as she whispered, “Oh.”

“Oh?” Killian repeated, his eyebrow rising.

“The key is in my purse. Downstairs.”

Killian rolled his eyes, shook his head, and mumbled to himself, something about ditzy blondes and stupid boots, as he turned and retraced his steps with Emma still in his arms. When he returned to the foyer, he spied her purse which she had dropped on top of her coat and woolen accessories. He leaned over so she could pick her bag up, ignoring her other belongings, and then set off again for her room.

On the way back, Emma said to him. “You know, you could have just left me upstairs and collected this on your own.”

“I don’t carry purses,” he scoffed.

Emma smiled at his typically male answer as she searched through her bag for the key, which was harder than she imagined with one of her arms around his shoulders. She reasoned with herself that he could probably hold her perfectly well if she moved her arm, but she didn’t want to. When they reached the top of the stairs, she triumphantly fingered the key and pulled it out of her bag, smiling as he came to a stop in front of her room door, once again.

She fumbled with the keys, eventually managing to unlock the door, and swing it open. Killian moved inside and then stopped short.

“What?”

Killian shook his head as if trying to rid his mind of something.  Emma looked around her room, and then smiled as she realized what he was thinking. This room was like a romantic getaway, and Killian had carried her in. Emma started to chuckle at the thought, and she looked to Killian to see a smile slowly spreading on his face.

“Just don’t get any ideas, love,” Killian grinned to her.

“Oh, absolutely not,” she returned, “I’m not the one who insisted on the bridal carry.”

Killian moved over to the bed and was about to lay her down when he changed his mind. Instead he placed her on the loveseat, crouching down next to her.

“Thanks,” Emma said sincerely.

“Sorry,” he apologized. “I hope this won’t upset the rest of your vacation?”

“Don’t worry, Jones, I’m a tough girl. It will take a lot more than a knee injury to keep me down.”

Killian stood and looked down to her. “Do you need help?” he asked, then wriggled his brows when he realized he had just offered to get her out of her jeans.

“I can manage,” Emma smirked up to him.

“Aye, okay,” he said with a cheeky grin that Emma was starting to love. “I’ll be downstairs then. If you need anything.”

“All right,” Emma smiled with a nod.

“Okay,” Killian repeated. He moved to the door, turned back to look at her, then left.

Emma struggled to stand, then she hobbled over to the bed to retrieve her baggy pajama bottoms. She decided to take a dip in the tub, hoping the heat, then the ice, would help her sore knee. She stuffed the ice pack in the small fridge, hoping it would at least keep it cool and then made a move for the bathroom.

An hour later and Emma was again settled on the loveseat, the leg of her pajama bottoms rolled up high on her thigh and the cooling pack held against her knee. The bath had helped and now the pain in her knee only mildly throbbed. As her stomach rumbled for the third time, she vaguely wondered how she was going to get her dinner that evening. Just as the thought ran through her head, there was a knock at her door.

“Come in,” she called out, and smiled when Mary Margaret stuck her head through the door as she opened it.

“Emma, I was just wondering if you have eaten this evening or if you had plans to go out for some food?” Mary Margaret asked her.

“Well, actually, I was going to ask if it would be okay to order in?”

“Well, I have no problem with that. But I’ve just made dinner for us, and there is plenty if you want to join us.”

“Are you serious?’ Emma asked, her face beaming.

“Yeah,” Mary Margaret grinned back. “It’s just a simple pot roast.”

“My favorite,” Emma responded as she moved to lower her trouser leg and leaned over to grab her jeans.

“You don’t have to change. It’s only David, Killian, and me,” the other girl started, laughing at herself before specifying. “I mean, if you are comfortable sitting with a bunch of strangers in your pajamas.”

“I don’t mind if you don’t mind.”

“Absolutely not,” Mary Margaret confirmed with a smile.

Emma laughed as she stood shakily on her tender knee.

“Shall I call for Killian?” Mary Margaret asked concerned.

“No,” Emma said in a rush, not thinking she could take being carried by the handsome Brit again. “It’s okay. Really. I don’t want it to get tight. I have a lot of sightseeing still to do.”

So Emma hobbled down the stairs with the help of Mary Margaret, and joined David and Killian in the dining room.

“Interesting dinner attire you have there, love,” Killian smirked at her long red pajama bottoms covered with reindeer heads, with a matching red tank top, as she collapsed into a seat beside him.

“Oh, bite me,” she grinned back.

For the next hour, Emma learned all there was to know about David, Killian, and Mary Margaret. David and Mary Margaret hailed from the same small town in Maine, though they weren’t exactly friends. They bumped into each other on campus at the University of North Carolina, and love soon blossomed between them. Then they met Killian, who worked at a local marina and the rest, as they say, is history. Their friendship remained steadfast even after David and Mary Margaret completed their degrees, to the extent of Killian relocating to Maine when his friends moved back home. And when he needed a guarantor for a business loan he was seeking, Mary Margaret convinced her father, a member of local government, to provide that signature.

Mary Margaret and David eventually married, and they moved to Boston when David’s grandparents left him their old brownstone. Mary Margaret put her management and business skills into effect by turning the huge house into a Bed and Breakfast.

Back in Storybrooke, Maine, Killian struggled with finding a career. After running out of money to buy beer for a Sunday football game, he decided to make his own beer. His friends had approved of this, and paid him to make more for them, and in turn, their friends. In time, Killian had applied for a business loan, co-signed by Mary Margaret’s father, and opened The Storybrooke Brewing Company, his signature beer being _Pirate Porter._ Killian was set for life, and his life was his company. He‘d briefly dated Mary-Margaret’s cousin, but soon realized how alike they were, and offered her a job as Vice-President of his company. He knew if he was incapacitated for any reason, she’d be just as ruthless as she was. It was because of Regina that Killian was currently visiting Boston. She had called Mary Margaret frantic to get Killian to slow down before he worked himself into an early grave.

Mary Margaret and David had concocted a plan to get him to take a break. They told him they had a B&B reviewer planning to visit, and their booking numbers were extremely low. Could he help out? Killian had left his hometown and arrived in Boston only to be told the ruse, and after Mary Margaret had spent a full day begging him, he agreed to stay. After all, Regina was looking after the company, and she was just as ruthless as he was when it came to making money.

“Your company makes Hook Pale Ale, right?” Emma asked him. At Killian’s nod, she continued with a smile, “I love that. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Thank you,” Killian returned graciously. “It’s a particular favorite of mine, as well.”

“But really, you have to leave out the nautical inspired names. It’s starting to get old.”

“Well, what do you recommend?” he asked, really wanting to hear her opinion. He had a new batch back at the brewery waiting for its name before it was brought onto the market.

“I don’t know. I don’t make beer,” Emma answered with a shrug.

“What do you do?” Mary Margaret asked her.

“Well, that’s a little debatable at the moment,” she answered skeptically.

Her eyes looked at her three dinner companions; they were all waiting expectantly for her to tell her story.

Emma worked as a bailbondperson, tracking down and catching those who’d skipped out on their bail. She’d met Neal Cassidy while stalking a skip in a dive bar in Tallahassee. They’d got to talking, then to meeting for coffee, and it wasn’t long  before they became lovers. It wasn’t until Neal’s name turned up in her work file that she realized Neal hadn’t been completely honest with her about his career choice.

The final straw had been when Emma found Neal in bed with a skip she’d been chasing for weeks. His defense had been that he was keeping the girl occupied until Emma arrived home to bust her. Emma thought there were better ways he could have done this, ways that didn’t require his face to be buried between her skip’s thighs.  She walked out, never to return. Neal had left, taking his bimbette with him, skipping out on his bail – again, and taking half of her bank account with him. Three months later Neal had been arrested in Portland, but her relationship with him was still the hot topic in her hometown, and she needed a break.

“So, I hopped on a plane, and here I am,” she concluded to her raptured audience.

“What a sleaze,” Mary Margaret proclaimed, appalled for her new friend.

“Yeah, story of my life,” Emma returned glibly.  “I just can’t seem to get the whole _love_ thing right. I always go for the _bad boy_ , and then I’m surprised to find out he's really a dick!”

Emma watched as Mary Margaret’s eyes flickered to Killian, accompanied by a smirk, and she could almost hear Mary Margaret confirm her suspicions. Killian was _bad boy_ personified.

“So who wants coffee?” Mary Margaret asked a little over excitedly, standing from the dining table.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll take some,” Emma answered, and watched as Mary Margaret stacked the plates together and headed to the kitchen with them. David also cleared some of the tableware and followed his wife out of the room while Killian leaned back in his chair, rubbing his full stomach with appreciation.

“Aren’t you gonna help?” Emma asked him.

“Are you?” he asked back.

“Hey, I’m injured, remember?”

“Then why should I help? I’m a paying guest.”

“You’re also a friend who has enjoyed a home-cooked meal, and it’s polite to help clear the table,” she retorted.

“Ah, you see, that’s where you went wrong, love. I’m not big on polite,” and before

Emma could respond he called out, “Hey David, I could do with another beer.” Killian swung back to Emma to see her looking at him through narrowed eyes. “What?” he asked with a shrug of his shoulders then his eyes lit up, and he grinned. “Oh, I’m sorry,” and he turned his head back in the direction of the kitchen and called out, “Swan wants one, too.”

Emma actually struck his arm with the back of her hand at his words. “I have a name ya know.”

“Oh, yeah.” He looked at her with a puzzled expression. “Emily, right?”

“Oh, you are so droll, Jones,” she said as she smirked at him, knowing he was doing it intentionally because she had acted like she couldn’t remember his name earlier.

“Aye, well apparently, names are quite confusing, Swan.”

David returned to the table carrying two bottles of beer made by Killian’s company, and as Emma twisted the cap off hers, she commented to David, “I hope he gives you a good deal on your beer supply?

David laughed at her. “You’re kidding, right? I don’t think Killian believes in deals.”

“There is no such word as friends when it comes to business,” Killian told her as he took a long drink, and again, Emma found herself mesmerized by his actions.

She shook her head. _Get it together, Swan,_ she told herself. _Killian is something you do not need right now._ But the longer she looked, the more she felt he was _exactly_ what she needed right now.  She turned away from him and took a drink of her beer.

When she looked back, Killian was smirking at her as though he knew precisely what she was thinking.

“Do you need any help, Mary Margaret?” she called out with a shaky voice, just for something to say, to stop Killian from looking at her the way he was.

“Don’t you dare move from that chair, Emma,” Mary Margaret’s voice floated back from the kitchen.

Emma turned back to Killian and David to find them engaged in a heated conversation about ice hockey. She lived in Florida and knew very little about ice hockey, so she took this opportunity to study Killian.

Maybe a brief, Christmas vacation fling, a Holiday interlude, with this man was just what she needed? That would surely get Neal out of her system. Not that she had any intention of getting back with him. He had been a mistake, she could see that now, but he had been a big part of her life for a while. She had been hurt and humiliated by his actions, maybe a good old fashioned down and dirty romp with a virtual strange would help? And Killian could most definitely be that man. He was good-looking in that whole rugged, _deal with me or get lost_ look. He was tall, taller than Neal, and had broad shoulders and a wide chest. The top few buttons of his shirt were open and his dark hair was visible. He was muscular in a just right way, and she felt safe and secure when he had been carrying her around the house earlier that evening. She found her mind being invaded with what he would look like without his shirt on, and she quickly took another drink of her beer, hoping to stop the blush that she knew would be creeping into her features. She wished she had come down to dinner in something more than a tank top, or at least put a bra on under it.

“Here we go,” Mary Margaret announced as she re-entered the dining room with a tray laden with a coffee pot, four cups, cream, and sugar.

Emma quickly swallowed the rest of her beer, then helped Mary Margaret organize the coffees.

Once they were all settled again, Emma asked, “Why is this place called Charming’s? I mean it is, Charming I mean, but your name is Nolan, I don’t see a connection.”

Mary Margaret smiled at David. “I didn’t met David in the most conventional ways…”

“Yeah, she stole the mascot from the school fencing team…” David picked up.

“Because it was cruel to keep that poor animal in that little cage,” Mary Margaret reasoned with frustration.

“And what kind of team has a sheep as it’s mascot, mate,” Killian added with a laugh.

“It wasn’t a sheep, it was a ram,” David smiled.

“Whatever it was, it was a piss-poor mascot for a fencing team,” Killian mumbled lifting his longneck to his lips again.

“Anyway,” Mary Margaret continued as she rolled her eyes at Killian. “David found out it was me and read me the riot act, citing that Fencing was a noble sport, and when he told me his name I said Charming suited him better, since he was _all noble and shit._ It just stuck.”

“They became _the Charmings_ , the sickliest, loved-up couple on campus,” Killian said.

“When we inherited this place, we decided to go with Charmings,” David finished.

“I think it suits perfectly,” Emma said. “For both the place and for you both.”

“Ah, Swan, don’t encourage them,” Killian whined.

 Half an hour later, Emma made her excuses and left the dinner table, thanking Mary Margaret for the meal.

Killian offered to help her up the stairs, but she refused and now, halfway up, she was wishing she hadn’t. Her knee was beginning to throb again, and she just wanted to take a few Advil and pray it would be okay by morning. She jumped  when a strong arm wrapped around her waist. She gave an involuntary shiver when his fingers brushed against the bare skin at her side. It was as if he had moved the material intentionally so he could touch her, and when she looked up to him, he smirked at her, as if totally aware of the effect he was having on her.

“I saw you struggling and thought I’d do the right thing,” he said by way of an explanation.

“You know, that’s almost polite,” she grinned back to him, enjoying his touch way too much.

“Aye, just don’t tell anyone, love, and I won’t have to kill you,” he laughed.

“Don’t worry,” she beamed back. “No one would believe me, anyway.”

They reached her door all too soon, and Emma was reluctant to pull away from him, but since he had yet to remove his arm, she did, and opened her door which she had left unlocked.

“So, I’ll catch you tomorrow,” Killian said as he finally removed his hand from around  her waist.

“Why? Are you thinking of having me on my knees again,” she laughed out and then stopped. “I mean… well… not that I meant… It’s just…” She spluttered, searching for the right words as the blush she had stopped earlier erupted in full force and tinted her cheeks.

“Don’t worry, Swan,” Killian smirked, and he leaned over and whispered, “I know exactly what you mean, and I can’t say the thought hasn’t entered my mind.”

And with one last grin, he left.

…

 

 

 


	3. December 22nd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Third chapter of my christmas fic.  
> Thank you so much for the interest shown for this fic, its been beyond fantastic and I hope that continues. Thanks for the comments and the kudos.  
> Again, huge thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones for her mag beta skills and enduring my crazy writing. You're the best.

December 22nd

 

The next morning, Emma felt she was back to her normal self, and she was up and out of the B&B before Killian had emerged from his room for breakfast. Not that she was purposely avoiding him, maybe only delaying the inevitable.

She found herself at the start of the well-known _Freedom Trail_ walk through Boston, gawking at the beauty that surrounded her. Boston Common looked like a Christmas card, the trees heavy with snow, the expanse of the common all white and glistening, and she could just make out the twinkling lights of the huge Christmas tree in the distance. She was currently debating if she could walk the whole route, absentmindedly rubbing her knee. It was feeling better, but if need be, she had painkillers in her purse.

This time, she sensed Killian as he came to stand beside her. They stood in silence for a minute, both of them absorbing their surroundings, and then Killian took a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp air.

He turned his head to her sharply. “What’s that smell?” he asked her seriously.

“What smell?” she questioned indignantly, whipping her eyes to him. _Was he telling her she smelled bad?_

Killian leaned over, dipping his nose just below her ear and took a deep breath.

Emma closed her eyes when he moved closer to her and suppressed the moan that threatened to escape when he inhaled deeply, his nose gliding against her skin slightly, and she could feel goosebumps break out down her arm. When she opened them again, she was greeted with his lazy smirk, and incredibly blue eyes, and she resisted the urge to smack him upside the head. He knew what he was doing to her, and he was doing it intentionally.

“That smell,” he answered her question, only moving away from her a little.

This time, Emma smirked and answered, “Be Delicious.”

“What?” Killian asked, pulling back completely.

“My perfume. It’s called _Be Delicious_.”

“Aye, absolutely,” he beamed at her.

Emma shook her head at him, now enjoying their banter and flirtation, her smile growing.

“Do you think you can manage a two and a half mile walk?” Killian asked her, finally breaking their eye contact and nodding in the direction the route would take them.

“Oh please. I’ve chased skips longer distances,” she replied with a wave of her hand.

“I meant with your knee, Swan,” he smiled.

“Are you going to walk the trail?” she challenged.

“I’m not here for my health.”

“Well, if it becomes a problem, you can always carry me.”

“You just want to feel my arms around you again,” he retorted.

“Yeah!  That has to be it. Keep dreaming, Jones, if you think that’s what I want.”

“Well, _obviously,_ it’s not _all_ you want,” he smirked back to her as he pulled a black beanie from his pocket and tugged it on over his head, then moved off down the trail, taking in the beauty of the snow-covered trees. He stopped a few feet from her, his hands in the pockets of his coat and turned back.

“Well, are you coming or what?” he grinned, his eyes twinkling with mirth at his innuendo.

Emma’s lips curled upward as her eyes matched his, and she hurried to catch up to him. Killian stuck his elbow out, and Emma slipped her hand in between his arm and body, and Killian pulled his elbow back to his side, holding her snug next to him.

As they exited the common and crossed the busy street, they stood in awe in front of the Massachusetts State House. Emma pulled on Killian’s arm, and he reluctantly followed her up the stone steps. They passed through the palatial halls of the magnificent building, marveling at the architecture of ages past and climbing the marble staircase to the floor with rooms on show. The first room they passed into was white with portraits, statues, and military artifacts displayed, they circled the room together.

“Why would you design a room with ten columns in it? Doesn’t it obstruct the view of everyone in the room?” Emma asked quietly.

Killian shrugged. “I guess it was commonplace in the 18th century.”

Emma stopped and pointed to some documentation. “It says here that this is not the original room.”

“Yeah, but it also says it’s a restoration, so it must be almost identical to the original,” Killian countered. Emma stuck her tongue out at him as she moved further around the room, stopping in front of the large portrait of Abraham Lincoln.

Killian patted one of the cannons on either side of the painting. “Do you think anyone would miss one of these? It would look awesome at the front of my brewery.”

“And how do you expect to get it out?” Emma asked, an immaculate brow rising in amusement.

Killian swung his head from left to right, as if on the lookout for any authoritative figure. “Well, you have a purse. Aren’t they bottomless or something?”

“I’m not Mary Poppins, ya know,” Emma laughed.

“Who?”

“You are kidding me, right?”

Killian smirked at her. “Come on, Mary. Let’s move on.”

Emma shook her head at him, disbelieving that he didn’t know the Disney classic, and let him lead her from the room by her hand.

The hall they entered next was equally as bright as the white room they had just left. The walls were covered with a sand-colored stone and cream mottled marble. Two grand staircases led up to the next floor, and the room was decorated with great paintings and bronze wall friezes.

Emma stood in front of a large bronze statue dedicated to the nurses of the Civil War. “When I was younger, I wanted to be a nurse,” she divulged to Killian when he joined her.

“I bet you played doctors and nurses a lot, huh?” he answered, knocking her shoulder with his.

“Are you insinuating something?” Emma asked, surprised at where their conversation was going.

“Me? Not a thing,” he smirked, then he tipped his head slightly, his eyes sweeping down her body.

“What?” she insisted.

“Just picturing you in one of those little white nurse’s uniforms.”

Emma’s eyes widened in shock, then she lifted her hand and swatted his arm.

“What?” he laughed, holding his arm out to stop any further attacks from her. “It looks good, love. Incredibly hot.” He popped the ‘T’ drawing it out with a lascivious grin on his face.

Emma huffed at him and turned away, though not completely in anger. She didn’t need him to see the maroon tint she knew would be creeping up her cheeks.

They continued through the historic building, making comments here and there as they went. Before too long, they departed to continue on the trail.

They marveled at all the sights along the trail, stopping when they reached Faneuil Hall to enjoy the market and grab a bite to eat. Killian showed her the Christmas store where Mary Margaret and David purchased their special tree ornaments each year, Emma bought one for herself, and another to add to the tree at the B&B.

Emma then dragged Killian to a section of the market that housed numerous wooden pushcarts selling a vast variety of products, one such stall being called _A Hat for Everyone_. Here, she made him try on several ridiculous hats, telling him he needed to loosen up and lose the boring black beanie he insisted on wearing. He grunted at this, explaining that his hat was perfectly adequate for his head warming needs. He eventually caved, and they left  the stall with Killian wearing his new purchase. He now donned a red and black woolen hat, with a white reindeer pattern running around it, and ties that dangled down either side, his old beanie lost in the bottom of Emma’s bag. He felt incredibly stupid, but the grin on Emma’s face made it worthwhile.

They continued on the tour, passing Paul Revere’s house which caused Killian to run around the area screaming, “The British are coming!” which just sounded wrong with his British accent. He was joined in his mirth by several children who were there with their parents, and eventually, Killian and Emma were politely asked to leave the area.

“You do realize he never actually said that?” Emma told him as they walked down the sidewalk.

Killian just shrugged to her, a wide grin on his face.

When they finally reached Bunker Hill, they sat for a moment staring at the monument. After a while, Emma turned back to Killian and asked, “You ready to head back?”

Killian grunted. “Is there a bus we can take or something?”

“Come on, old man. I’m sure your legs will hold out,” she jested, while she pulled on his hand so he was standing.

“So, what else do you plan on seeing while in Boston?” Killian asked her as they made their way back.

“Oh, I want to see _all_ that Boston has to offer,” she grinned.

“Is that right?” he flirted, eyebrow cocked, as he waited for her response.

“Absolutely,” she bantered back. “Actually,” she continued seriously, “I was thinking about taking a trip out to Concord. I would love to visit Sleepy Hollow cemetery.”

“Isn’t Sleepy Hollow in New York?” he asked, thinking of _The Legend of Sleepy Hollow_.

“I don’t know, I was never any good with geography. I just know there is a place out there where a lot of literary greats are buried, and it’s called Sleepy Hollow Cemetery. I’d like to see that.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll see if David will lend us his car, and we can drive out there tomorrow.”

“Killian, you don’t have to take me. I can rent a car or something. Please, don’t feel obligated or anything.”

“I don’t mind, Swan. I’ve seen a lot of what Boston has to offer. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I like to read, so… it’s cool. We’ll go together,” Killian said. “Unless you don’t want my debonair company?”

“Are you sure?” Emma asked.

“Of course,” Killian confirmed, ending discussion on the subject. “Although, I may want something in return. You know, for giving up my precious time for your excursion.”

“Yeah,” she replied, a coy smile playing on her lips, “and what would that be?”

Killian stopped her, and turned her to him, stepping into her space.

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat at the look in his eyes as he leaned down to her. His lips brushed against her ear, causing a chill to run through her, as he whispered, “My hat! I want my hat back.”

Emma laughed and pushed him away. “No way, buddy. I’m holding it hostage until the end of my vacation.”

“You totally thought I was going to ask for something else,” Killian chuckled as they continued their walk.

“Did not,” Emma disputed petulantly, though her smile told a different story.

“Oh, you know you were. There’s no use denying it.”      

So she didn’t.

Once they were back in the city center, Killian asked her where she wanted to visit next.

“Trinity Church,” she answered with a smile.

“Not another church,” Killian moaned loudly, over-exaggerating his protests. “Are you some sort of religious nut? Do you have a secret yearning to become a nun or something?”

“Hardly,” she laughed. “I just like the peace and tranquility of a church. It’s enlightening.”

“Enlightening? Unnerving is more like it.”

“Don’t be such a troglodyte,” she replied as she bumped her hip against his.

“Oh, big words, lass,” Killian teased, as he made to grab her arm playfully, which she easily dodged.

“When was the last time you were actually in a church?”

“When Mary Margaret and David got married,” he answered.

“Come on, Jones. It will be spiritual,” she implored, tugging on his arm, leading him in the right direction. Her fingers followed the contours of his arm until she was pulling on his hand.

He willingly let her lead the way, their hands clasped, he held onto her, refusing to let her move away.

The Church was magnificent, beyond anything that Emma had seen, and she felt humbled to be there, still holding on tightly to Killian’s hand. Throughout the entire time in the building, Killian had only uttered one word. “Wow!”

They re-emerged from the church into the late afternoon sunshine, and Killian rubbed his stomach.

“Let’s find somewhere to eat. That way, Mary Margaret won’t have to cook for us this evening,” he said to her.

“Okay,” she agreed. “What do you feeling like eating?”

“Anything,” Killian answered. “I’m starved.”

“You ate three hours ago.”

“Yeah, a whole three hours ago!”

Emma shook her head. “Okay, I’ll make the decision then. I think… some… seafood. After all, we are in Boston, right?”

“As you wish, Swan,” and Killian opened his arm to the street, indicating her to lead the way.

“You know, I could get used to being obeyed,” she laughed as they started down the sidewalk.

Killian didn’t answer, he just grinned. They walked together for a few yards, and then Killian asked, “You know where you’re going, right?”

“Absolutely not,” she replied. “I’m just hoping some place jumps out at me.”

Killian began that low mumbling he did when his patience was being tried. He stopped a passerby, asking the middle-aged man about recommendations for seafood restaurants.

The man chuckled at them, telling Killian they were heading in the complete wrong direction, and gave them directions to his personal favorite by the harbor, a twenty-minute walk away. Killian and Emma laughed at each other, then turned to walk back the way they had come. They fell into easy conversation as they strolled, Emma tucking her hand into Killian’s elbow like she had earlier that day. She smiled at him when  he, again, locked his arm on top of hers. There was something sweet about him not wanting her to remove her hand.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting at a table in the Boston Sail Loft, a harbor-side restaurant. Killian had approved immediately, when he saw they sold his beer. After a delicious meal of clam chowder and fresh lobster, they walked along the wharf and settled on a bench to watch the sailboats and luxury yachts that moored close by.

“There is no better feeling than the wind in your sail, and the smell of the sea,” Killian said with a wistful smile on his face.

“You know, I’m not the least bit surprised you’re a sea man,” Emma laughed. At Killian’s quizzical lift of his brow she continued, “Because all your beer is named with a nautical theme.”

“I might take offense to that,” Killian returned, as if shocked.

“Why?” Emma asked, surprised.

“Do you like being stereotyped?” he countered.

Emma huffed. “Not all blondes are brainless. And it was only yesterday you mumbled something about me being a ditzy blonde.”

“I know that, but I bet you’ve had many people take one look at you and automatically think hot, sensual, wild between the sheets, and nothing in the head,” he elaborated.

“How would I know what people think when they look at me?” Emma asked.

“Well, sometimes, Swan, a guy’s response to an attractive woman is hard to keep a secret.”

Emma laughed at his answer. “So, is that what you think?” she probed with a half-smile.

Killian looked down at her, his lips still curled into a smirk, and his gleaming eyes holding hers for a second. Then he looked back to the water, not answering her question.

Emma tipped her head to look at him, squinting her eyes purposely to get his attention.

“What are you doing, Swan?”

“I’m picturing you dressed like a pirate,” she smirked, echoing his words from earlier about the nurse’s outfit.

“You don’t think I’d cut a fine figure as Captain Hook?” he preened.

“Sure, if perms and waxed mustaches are your thing,” she shot back.

“I’d prefer dashing rapscallion,” he suggested.  

“More like scoundrel,” she returned cheekily. “So you like to sail,” she asked.

“There is nothing better. Have you ever been?”

“Me! No. I’ve not had too many opportunities to go sailing.”

“You should visit Storybrooke. I’ll take you out.”

“You have a boat?”

“Aye, a small vessel for the time being, but I’m hoping to restore an old ship that wrecked along the coast of Maine.”

“Wow, that’s a rather large venture,” Emma said, amazed he is that dedicated to sailing.

“Yeah, and very costly.”

“I can only imagine. So, you’re a captain then, with your own ship and everything.”

“I guess I am.”

They continued chatting as the daylight dimmed, while heading back to Charming’s Bed and Breakfast.  

… 

 


	4. December 23rd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fourth installment of my CS Christmas fic. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone reading this and for the kudos and the comments. You guys are the best! 
> 
> This one is a little longer than previous chapters! For this you should thank my fabulous beta, ilovemesomekillianjones and her persuading me the ending needed to be included. :)

December 23rd  

The next morning, Emma glared out of her room’s window down at Killian who was hitting the horn on David’s Explorer. “Patience is a virtue,” she said to herself as she turned back to the room and quickly finished sweeping her lips with her shiny gloss. She threw the tube into her purse, smiling at Killian’s hat that remained in the bottom. She had been highly tempted to remove his hat last night and put it under her pillow, but she thought that might border on crazy and left it in her purse. She locked her door and bounded down the hall like a giddy schoolgirl about to go on her first date. Mary Margaret was grinning at her from the bottom of the stairs.

“Don’t stay out too late,” Mary Margaret said.

“Okay, _Mom_ ,” Emma grinned back to her, glad they had forged a friendship so easily.

“I’m just saying. It’s going to snow again, and you don’t want to be stuck in a car with Killian. Trust me on this.”

“Okay, I promise. Just a quick trip to the cemetery, maybe a little walk around the town, then home,” Emma answered her.

“Killian has my number if there are any problems.”

“Bye,” Emma called as she left, swinging the door closed behind her.

“What was taking so long?” Killian grumbled as she slipped into the seat of the vehicle.

“Mary Margaret was just giving me the weather report. It’s going to snow again this afternoon,” she told him, her eyes lighting up when she saw he was wearing his new hat.

“Okay, so we should get this done before it hits so we can get back and off the road,” he said as he started the engine and adjusted the rearview mirror. He flicked on the blinker and glided effortlessly into the traffic. 

The drive wasn’t too bad. There had been a brief moment of discontentment while trying to find a radio station they could both agree on. Killian wanted the rock channel, and Emma opted for a more easy listening station. They settled, begrudgingly in Killian’s behalf, on a station that appeared to be playing Christmas tunes. Killian soon forgot his displeasure when Emma started to sing along to the music. She really had a good voice, sensual and empowering, and in spite of himself, he was soon singing along, too.

They found the cemetery fairly easily, and they weren’t the only ones to brave the coming snow to see the burial site of many great and influential writers. Emma did a little giddy dance when she found the marker for Louisa May Alcott, then stopped abruptly, hearing Elsa’s disapproving voice in her head about _dancing on people’s graves_. She then moved on to look for Nathaniel Hawthorne while Killian searched for Ralph Waldo Emerson. They met again in front of Henry David Thoreau’s family plot.

“Walden’s Pond isn’t far from here,” Emma said to Killian, with a hint of hopefulness to her voice.

“You want to go out and look at a pond?” he asked her incredulously, stamping his feet to keep warm.

Emma shrugged, thinking it would look nice this time of year with the snow and the ice.

Killian shook his head as he said, “Come on, then, Swan,” and he turned and headed for the exit. Emma followed him, eventually catching up and latching onto his hand again, smiling to herself when he squeezed her fingers.

As they walked down to the frozen water, Emma felt in awe of her surroundings. This truly was a magical place. The scenery looked like a painting, the trees devoid of leaves, their bare branches heavy with snow. Emma wished she had brought a camera with her to capture this beauty.

They came to a stop in front of a wall, and Killian brushed some snow aside then lifted Emma so she was sitting on top of the wall. He moved in close to her legs, and she leaned against his shoulder.  An elderly couple passed as they, too, took in the beauty of the area, they exchanged smiles and _Merry Christmases,_ and Emma briefly wondered if the older couple had assumed they were a couple. She turned her head slightly to look at Killian while pretending to be looking over the frozen lake. She supposed they made a good-looking couple. She knew she was an attractive girl, being told that since she had hit 16, and Killian was super high on the handsome scale.   They’d spent the last two days in each other’s company, but could this dance they were doing, this flirtatious tango, become anything other than a fling? She was more than a little cautious of entering into anything else at the moment. She had been hurt by Neal more than she’d ever admit to anyone else, least of all herself, afraid her heart couldn’t take more heartache. But, what if, what if Killian was the one?

“I wonder if the ice is hard enough for skating,” she pondered distractedly.

“Do you have a pair of skates in your magic purse?” Killian asked her with an eyebrow raised.

“No,” she confessed with a smile.

“Then what does it matter?”

“I’ve never been ice skating,” she told him.

Killian turned to her, a disbelieving look on his face.

“You have never stepped out onto the ice?”

She shook her head. “Killian, I live in Florida. There’s not a whole lot of ice around.”

“You’ve never skated?” he probed. “Not even as a kid.”

Emma really didn’t want to go into the details of her childhood at that moment, so she said, “I’ve been to the roller rink. Does that count?”

Killian responded by lifting her back down from the wall, grabbing her hand, and setting off back the way they had come.

“Where are we going?” she asked as she struggled to keep up with his long strides, trying hard not to slide on the slippery ground.

“Back to Boston,” he replied. “Ice skating on Frog Pond.”

“I don’t know, Killian. I have a dodgy knee, remember?”

Killian stopped his quick pace which caused Emma to bump into him. He turned to her and lifted his palm to her cheek. “I won’t let you fall,” he said sincerely.

As they locked eyes she thought, _this is it. He’s going to kiss me._  But then he turned, and they were on their way again.

“I take it you have ice-skated before?” she asked him, skeptically, while mentally berating herself for not taking the initiative to make that first move.

“I’m captain of the Ice Hockey team back at home.”

“Oh, okay,” she relented and let herself be led back to the car.

An hour later they were back at the B&B, and Killian was handing over the car keys.

“Did you have fun?” Mary Margaret asked.

“Mary Margaret, we were looking at a load of stones to tell where dead people are. Where is the fun in that?” Killian replied sarcastically.

“Yet you still went,” she returned with a knowing smile, and before either of them could say any more, she asked, “Do you guys want a sandwich or some soup before you head out again?”

“Oh, that would be great, Mary Margaret. Thanks,” Emma beamed. “I know it’s been at least four hours since Killian ate anything, and you know how cranky he can get.”

Mary Margaret laughed at Emma’s correct observation of her long-time friend. “Ain’t that the truth? You go into the parlor, and I’ll bring some to you.”

“Let me help?” Emma begged wanting to repay the kindness Mary Margaret had shown her.

“No can do,” Mary Margaret said with a shake of her head. “You are a guest here, Emma.”

“But...” Emma started and stopped abruptly when Mary Margaret held her arm out and pointed to the door.

“Oh, she’s got that look on her face, love. Better do as she says before she adds some healthy extras on your bill for insubordination.”

“Killian Jones, don’t you dare insinuate that I would add extra costs to a guest’s bill, or you will find yourself paying for two rooms instead of one.”

Killian took that to heart and tugged on Emma’s hand, forcing her out of the kitchen.

Mary Margaret made them a wonderful thick broth, with huge chunks of chicken and lots of corn, and Emma loved it, soaking up the last bit with the last of her hot roll.

“Do you think it’s wise to go ice skating on a full stomach?” Emma asked as she leaned back against her seat, her hand patting her belly.

“I think that only applies to swimming,” Killian laughed at her as she toed her boots off and wiggled her toes out to the roaring fire.

“Hey, no welching on our deal,” he complained to her as she relaxed deeper into the cushion on the comfortable sofa.

“I don’t remember making any deal with you,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes.

“No way, Swan! No way are you going to sleep,” and he moved over to her and tickled her ribs.

“No, don’t,” Emma squealed, her pale green eyes shining with laughter as she tried to move away from him. Unfortunately, the love seat they had chosen to sit on wasn’t big, and it wasn’t long before Killian had her pinned under him, his hands attacking her sides with relish as she squirmed delightfully under his touch.

“Killian, stop!” Emma begged between her laughter, “Okay, I’ll go with you. Just stop.”

“Say Killian rules supreme!”

“Killian, we are not 8-year-olds, ya know,” she giggled.

“Say it, or I’m not letting you up.”

Emma thought about that for a moment. Although in their current position, she wasn’t extremely comfortable, but as she looked up to the man looming above her, she reasoned there were worse places to be in the world.She was perfectly content to stay exactly where she was until she caught a glimpse of his hand as it slipped quickly under her sweater to rest at her side. Killian’s fingers tickled her skin mercilessly, and Emma couldn’t stop the yelp of giddiness that escaped her lips.

“Okay, okay,” she finally relented, and his fingers paused, but his hand remained under her sweater, resting gently at her waist. Killian raised an eyebrow at her, waiting for the words. Emma rolled her eyes before uttering, “Killian is the biggest, bestest man in the whole world.”

Killian grinned at her. “Not the words I chose, but I guess the sentiment is the same.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Emma grumbled. “Now get off me, ya big lug! You’re heavy.”

“Now, you know you don’t mean that,” Killian smirked.

“What, that you’re a big lug?” Emma asked innocently.

Before Killian could answer her, there was a cough, and they both turned their heads to see Mary Margaret standing in the archway, her eyebrow raised at the sight that had greeted her. “Am I interrupting something?” she grinned.

“Absolutely,” Killian answered her, not moving an inch.

“Killian,” Emma cried, hitting him on the shoulder.

He turned his head back to her, his eyes twinkling with mischief, and she watched him as his eyes roamed freely over her face.

“Do you want me to leave?” Mary Margaret asked, amused.

“Yes,” Killian replied, his eyes still trained on Emma; at the same time she said, “No.” with her own gazed hypnotically focused on his.

The decision was taken from them when the front door opened, and the B&B’s other two guests, Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson, bustled in.

Mary Margaret turned to greet them and help them with their bags.  Killian reluctantly moved away from Emma, his hand slipping out from under her sweater, and Emma almost moaned from the loss of his warm hand.

“Come on then, Swan. Get your boots back on, and we’ll hit the ice.”

“Yeah, probably literally for me,” Emma mumbled.

“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t let you fall.”

Emma ignored him and continued mumbling to herself, but she did pull on her brown boots.

Before she knew it, Emma was waiting in line for a pair of skates, her eyes anxiously flickering over to the frozen water.

“I’m not gonna fall in, am I?” she asked Killian nervously.

“Do you not see all those people already on the ice, love?” he answered her, waving an arm over at the pond. Emma was a little surprised to find she liked the way he called her love, though she understood it wasn’t particularly a term of endearment, but something he did often. “And to be perfectly honest with you,” he shifted his eyes from side to side as if he was about to tell her a national secret, “you hardly weigh anything. The ice won’t even know you are on it.”

When it was their turn, Killian paid for their skate rental and admission, then moved Emma over to the side to help her into the skates.

“Are you sure this is safe, Killian?” she asked as he led her onto the ice.

“Perfectly,” he reassured her. “During the summer, this is a wading pool, so I doubt that you’ll go plummeting to your death. Just keep looking at me, and you’ll be fine.”

“Some people will do anything to get girls to look at them,” she quipped.

“Pirate, remember,” he smirked back, reminding her of their private joke from the day before. “Besides, I don’t see you complaining.”

“I’m sacrificing myself for your pleasure,” she smiled, her eyes glimmering at his reaction to her words. “There have to be some perks, right?”

“Oh, I’m sure there are perks.”

“Yeah, and what might they be?” she challenged.

“Well, one is that you are actually standing on the ice with a devilishly handsome guy,” Killian told her simply.

Emma looked down at her feet, shocked to see he was right. He had distracted her while moving her out into the middle of the frozen pond.

“Well, how about that?” she smiled.

Killian spent the next half hour leading her around the ice, teaching her the simple mechanics of ice skating. Eventually, Emma felt confident enough to let go of one of his hands, and they glided side-by-side with the flow of the other skaters.

It started to snow, and Emma couldn’t help but marvel at the large flakes. Suddenly she slipped, toppling to the ice, taking Killian with her. They lay there for a second, shocked, and then Emma started the giggle, looking at Killian to see his huge smile, and her giggle turned into a full-fledged laugh, which he echoed.

Killian quickly got to his feet, then he wrapped his arms around Emma and cautiously helped her to stand. “Are you okay? Did you hurt your knee again?”

“No, it’s fine,” Emma answered him, her voice strangely low. Here she was, standing on a frozen pond with the snow falling heavy around her, and she was being held in the arms of a gorgeous stranger who was looking down at her like she was the only other person in the world. The romanticism of the moment was not lost on her.

When he leaned down to her, she could almost imagine her knees growing weak and was extremely grateful that he was holding her, and was so at ease on the ice.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Killian told her.

“Okay,” she said breathlessly, then his soft, warm lips were on hers. Being kissed was nothing new to Emma. After all, up until three months ago, she had been in a relationship with Neal that had lasted nearly three years, and he was hardly the first guy she had kissed. But this? This kiss was something else. She seemed to feel his lips all the way down to her toes, and the tugging in her abdomen was a familiar feeling but intensified by a thousand.

When Killian eventually pulled away from her, he leaned his forehead against hers. “I’ve wanted to do that since you first walked into the parlor at the B&B,” he admitted softly.

“So, you showed a little restraint by holding off?” she questioned.

“Aye, it was very gentlemanly of me, and it was killing me,” he smirked.

“You’re not the only one,” Emma said, as she moved her hands up and around his shoulders. With one hand against the back of his neck, she pulled him back to her, crashing her lips back to his.

...

“I’m starving,” Killian grinned to her after they returned their skates. Grabbing her hand, he led her over to the café by the pond. “I could eat their biggest burger, maybe two.”

“Your dietary needs terrify me,” Emma jested as they entered the warmth of the café. They got in line to place their order, Killian stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her close to him.

Emma was slightly concerned at how easy and natural this all felt. She had only met Killian a few days ago, and now being held in his arms just seemed right. She reasoned it stemmed from the dysfunctional relationship she had with Neal. Sure, he had held her hand, hugged her, and kissed her in public, but Emma always had the feeling that he was doing it to stake his claim on her, to let others know that she was his girlfriend. With Killian, it felt different, even after such a short time and the two kisses they had shared. With him, it felt like he wanted to touch her, because he needed that connection, not to warn others off.

She was so lost in thought, she hadn’t realized they were at the front of the line. When she came out of her internal thoughts, it was to see Killian looking at her intently.

“Uh?” she asked at his querying expression.

“I’m not a mind reader, Swan,” Killian laughed. “What would you like?”

“Sorry,” Emma grinned at the woman behind the counter, waiting expectantly. She glanced at the board on the wall behind the register. “I’ll take the chicken tenders and fries, thanks.”

The woman nodded and rang it up on the machine, and Killian reached into his jeans pocket for his wallet.

“No, Killian,” Emma stopped him. “I’ll get this one. You’ve paid for everything else.”

“Okay,” Killian acceded. “I could get used to being a kept man.”

“Keep dreaming, Pirate,” Emma rolled her eyes. “I only get paid when I catch a skip, ya know. We can’t _all_ own breweries.”

“Then let me pay,” Killian offered.

“No. I’m not penniless,” Emma laughed as she turned back to the cashier. “Can I add a large hot chocolate to that?”

“Make that two,” Killian added with a smile. “With whipped cream and marshmallows.”

“On one,” Emma told the cashier quickly as she handed over the cash. “Whipped cream and cinnamon on the other.”  

After their meal, they walked through the common, their hands interlaced as they talked about their lives. Killian suddenly stopped, mid-conversation, and stooped over to fiddle with his boot. “Keep walking, Swan. I’ll catch up,” he told her, so Emma turned and continued, not wanting to freeze while he was fastening his lace.

The projectile that hit Emma’s head shocked her, and she turned quickly to see Killian smirking at her, tossing another snowball up and down.

“Oh, that was low, Jones,” she said as she took another step away from him and his menacing look.

“Actually, it hit just where I wanted it to.” He appeared to be ready to throw the one he held.

“No, Killian,” Emma protested, her hand stretched out to stop him. “That’s not fair!”

“I’ll give you to the count of ten to get ready,” he offered as he took a step toward her.

Emma looked skeptically at him and then, seeing the mischievous look in his eye, she scrambled to arm herself.  She didn’t let him finish counting as she threw a snowball which hit him lamely on the shoulder.

“You throw like a girl,” he teased.

“I _am_ a girl,” she retorted, and she bent to pick up another of the balls she had made, narrowly avoiding the snowball he flung back at her.

They dashed around the glistening area, throwing snow at each other and laughing. When Killian got bored with this, he simply tackled Emma, picking her up and then dumping her in a snow bank.

“Killian!” she cried out, her laughter telling him she wasn’t completely angry with him, and he fell next to her in the snow. They lay there together in silence in the dimming light, watching the snow fall. Killian moved closer, turning to her, so his body was flush against her and his hand moved up to brush the snow from her hair.

“You know, you’re incredibly beautiful,” he said softly.

Emma rolled her eyes, downplaying what he was saying. “I know my ass is freezing,” she smiled back to him.

“Well, we can’t have that,” he smirked. “I’ll just have to warm you up.” He leaned in to her, capturing her lips with his. Emma wound her arms around him as best she could with the bulk of their coats, and she could feel the snow melting under her as her body heated up at the feel of his soft lips against hers.

Killian shifted against her, and his hand fumbled at a few of the buttons on her coat. Eventually, he slipped his palm in to press against her side, still restricted from feeling her skin by her sweater. He moved his lips and pulled at her scarf to loosen it a little so he could access her neck, then unbuttoned more of her coat.

Emma shivered as he moved her coat aside as best he could, while not moving his body from hers, trying to keep the warmth between them. His hand glided against her soft sweater until his fingers brushed against her breast.

Emma moaned, closing her eyes as his fingers pressed against her, wishing she could feel more, almost not caring they were lying in a bank of snow and the cold was biting through her jeans. Her mind suddenly wondering if you could get frostbite on your ass as a shiver rippled through her.

Killian lifted his lips from her neck and gave her a smug look, “Is that reaction from the cold or from me?” he asked.

Emma opened her eyes to fall into the deep ocean blue of his and smiled back. “A little of both, I think.”

Killian’s eyes roamed her face, noting the pink tint around her cheeks, and the collection of snowflakes on her eyelids. He kissed the tip of her nose before pulling away from her and scrambling to his feet, pulling her with him.

Emma let him fasten her coat back up and tighten her scarf snuggly around her neck as she secured her hat.

“We should get you back to the B&B and get you out of those wet clothes,” he told her with a lopsided smile.

“Any excuse, eh?” she grinned back.

“You wound me, lass,” Killian said in mock hurt, his hand against his chest. “Do you really think that I’m only trying to get you naked?”

“You aren’t?” she asked doubtfully.

“Well,” Killian said. “I wouldn’t say the thought isn’t intriguing, but seriously, love, you must be freezing. Let’s go.”

Later, after Emma had changed into a fresh pair of jeans, she and Killian relaxed on the loveseat in the parlor, watching the crackling flames of the log fire. He had his feet propped up on an ottoman, upholstered in the same fabric as the sofa, flask in one hand and Emma curled up beside him, with his arm securely around her, and one of her hands lay against his stomach.

“What do you think the odds are we could get Mary Margaret to make us some dinner?” he asked her before taking another drink.

“Killian, not an hour ago I watched you shove two cheeseburgers into your face. You can’t possibly still be hungry.”

“I’m a man, Swan. I’m always hungry for something,” he pointed out.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Emma snickered as she sat up. “Let’s go out somewhere?”

“Where?”

“Killian, we are in Boston. There is always someplace to go,” she exclaimed, jumping up from the sofa. She moved into the hallway where Mary Margaret kept brochures with places of interest Boston had to offer.

Ten minutes later, she returned, her face showing her disappointment.

“Didn’t find anything?” he asked.

“There is plenty to do, it’s just…. I wanted something fun to do,” she told him as she flopped back next to him.

“Well, I know of something we can do that is a _lot_ of fun,” he offered, his eyebrows wiggling suggestively.

Emma snorted, “Yeah, I think I know _that_ thing, Pirate. No pillaging and plundering for you tonight.” Then she sat up straight, “I have it,” she said, her smile growing.

“Oh, you have it and then some.”

Emma hit him playfully on his shoulder. “Come on,” she pulled him up to stand, taking his flask away from him.

“Hey, no, lass. You can’t just take the rum away.”

Emma looked at the flask and then brought it to her lips and took a gulp.

“What, No!” Killian cried as he watched her, moving his arms to try and grab the flask.

“That’s harsh, Swan. Drinking the last of a man’s rum,” he said, shaking his head.

“Oh, you’ll live. Now, go and put a shirt on or something.”

Killian looked at her as if she had two heads just as Mary Margaret entered the room.

“Oh, no, Emma,” she chuckled. “I think you just ruined the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Why?” Emma questioned, looking between the two friends. “Because I drank some of his rum?”

“You drank his rum?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyes bulging in shock. She looked between Killian and Emma. “And yet, you live.”

“Mary Margaret,” Killian sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I’m not joking, Killian. This is serious. The last person to drink your rum spent a week in the hospital,” Mary Margaret said, and she moved over to him and lifted her hand to feel his forehead. “You must be ill.”

“Stop overreacting,” Killian said, pushing her hand away. “That guy was only in the hospital for t _wo_ days.”

“You put a guy in hospital for drinking your rum?” Emma asked him, shocked.

“It was a misunderstanding,” Killian explained, and then he turned to Mary Margaret, pointing his finger at her, “and you know that.”

“Okay, I don’t think I want to know,” Emma said, holding her hands up. “Just go and change your shirt, Killian.”

Mary Margaret turned and grinned at Killian, obviously waiting to see what he was going to do.

“What’s wrong with this shirt?” he grumbled, pulling slightly on the cotton material of his t-shirt.

“Killian, it’s a Metallica t-shirt,” Emma said evenly, as if that explained everything.

“And?” Killian returned.

“And if you want to accompany me out this evening, you will march up those stairs and find a nice button down shirt, change, and return quickly,” she said, crossing her arms in front of her.

“What if I say no?” Killian challenged her.

“Well, that’s fine too, but I’ll be going without you.”

They locked eyes for a minute, each waiting for the other to back down, and then eventually, Killian moved away, headed for the stairs, mumbling something about bringing a shirt with him and moody blondes.

Mary Margaret watched him go, her jaw hanging open. “I don’t believe it,” she commented, once he’d disappeared from view.

“What?” Emma asked her, stretching up onto her toes to look at herself in the mirror above the fireplace, wondering if she needed to change her sweater.

“You,” Mary Margaret replied, and when Emma looked at her through the mirror, Mary Margaret was beaming. “I’ve known Killian a long time, Emma. And I have known girls who have tried to change him, and none have succeeded. And then, just like that, you tell him to change his clothes, and he goes running.”

Emma raised her eyebrows looking at Mary Margaret through the mirror. “Is that a bad thing?”

Mary Margaret shook her head, a grin spreading across her delicate features. “No. It’s definitely not a bad thing. I think you are just what Killian needs.”

“Killian needs someone to tell him to change his clothes?” Emma asked, puzzled, turning around to face her host.

“No. Killian needs someone who he’s willing to change his clothes for,” Mary Margaret answered cryptically, and she turned to leave.

“Hey, Mary Margaret,” Emma called to her and Mary Margaret turned back. “Do you and David want to join us this evening?”

“We’d love to, but Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson have booked a home-cooked meal this evening, so I’ll be chained to the stove.”

Emma nodded.

“Maybe we could do something tomorrow evening?” Mary Margaret continued.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Emma’s eyes swung to the stairs, and she asked Mary Margaret, “Do you think he has a shirt with him?” She was now concerned that she would make Killian feel bad.

“I’m sure he has something suitable,” Mary Margaret answered with a smile, and then went to start preparing the evening meal.

Emma bounced up the stairs to her room, deciding to change her sweater since she had forced Killian to change.

She stripped out of her dark top, tossing it onto the loveseat at the foot of the bed, and crossed the room to the wardrobe. She wished she’d brought something a little more eye-catching with her from home, but how was she supposed to know she was going to meet a man she wanted to impress? She would just have to improvise. Then she remembered the cashmere sweater she bought at the airport in Washington D.C., during her layover. She had left it in her suitcase, as she doubted she would be needing it.

She dragged her suitcase out from under the bed, and there was her sweater: A green cashmere crochet creation that was unbelievably soft and almost indecently see-through. She hurried to the dresser and dug through her tops until she found a white thin strap tank top that she had brought along to wear under her sweaters to keep warm.

She wondered if she would have time for a shower. Maybe just a quick one: her hair would just have to make do, or Killian would probably have a fit at the amount of time she had taken to get ready. Since she had washed it that morning, she was sure it would be fine, but as she passed the mirror she decided to plug in her curling iron, a quick flick would be all it needed to disguise the fact that the ends had frizzed a little with the falling snow.

She surprised herself by being ready a mere ten minutes later. Returning to the parlor she found Killian was not there. She figured he would be in the kitchen, harassing Mary Margaret for food, but as she entered, she couldn’t see him.

“Oh my God, Emma,” Mary Margaret said looking up from the table where she was making a pie crust. “That sweater is amazing.”

“Isn’t it?” Emma returned with a grin. “I thought Killian would be in here begging for food.”

“As far as I know, he’s still in his room,” Mary Margaret answered with a smile. “Obviously, he’s looking for something to wear.”

Emma nodded and moved for the door, stopping just before she left, she turned back to Mary Margaret. “Hey, Mary Margaret?”

“Room 4, 3rd floor,” Mary Margaret told her without looking up from the table.

Emma smiled and made for the stairs.

She stood beside Killian’s door and knocked. “Jones,” she called out.

The door opened, and Killian stood before her. He’d obviously had the same idea as her and taken a quick shower as there he was, in a fresh pair of dark jeans, and no shirt to speak of. Emma couldn’t help but stare at his damp chest, tantalizing dark hair, and muscles defined with hard lines.

“You’re drooling, love,” Killian smirked, then turned back into the room forcing Emma to enter if she wanted to keep talking to him.

“Am not,” she bit back.

His room was completely different from hers. Whereas her room was romantic and old –world, his was modern and contemporary. The furnishings were black wood, the bed huge with a deep red comforter. Emma intuitively knew  it was the perfect room for Killian.

“Hey, your room is really cool,” she said as she perched on the edge of the bed, then quickly stood. After all, she didn’t want to look like she was inviting something else. At least not yet.

“Yeah, I like this room. It’s my favorite one here.”

“Are you nearly ready?” she asked, trying to cover up her embarrassment.

“Well, I didn’t exactly bring many dress shirts with me,” he admitted, showing her the two items he held in his hands. One was charcoal with thin red stripes running through it. The other was a deep purple plaid.

She moved closer to him, taking both shirts from his grasp and held them up to inspect them, discarding the plaid one, tossing it on his bed, and handing the other back. “Put it on and let’s go,” she grinned as she stepped away from him again, not trusting herself to be close to him while he was half naked.

Killian smirked again as he slipped his arms into the shirt, his eyes dancing with pleasure at her obvious attraction to him, and began to button it up. He fumbled with the buttons though, nervous that she was watching him, and Emma laughed.

“Here,” she said as she moved back over to him, unbuttoning the one he had messed up and re-fastening it, then moving on to the next one.

Killian couldn’t help the snort of laughter that erupted from him.

She looked at him with a shy smile on her lips, “What?” she asked.

“I have to say, lass, this is the first time a woman has ever fastened my shirt buttons. Normally, it’s the other way around,” he smirked.

“Really? You fasten women’s shirt buttons a lot then,” she asked, intentionally misinterpreting what she had said.

Killian rolled his eyes,“You know that’s not what I mean.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” she smiled. Leaving the top two buttons unfastened, _not so she could stare at his chest and fantasize all night_ , she told her herself, she straightened his collar. She brushed her hand down the shirt, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles, not at all taking the opportunity to feel the muscles of his chest as his eyes watched her.

“You know, we don’t have to go out,” he said, catching her hand in his and pulling her closer.

“Really?” she replied in mock shock. “And what do you suggest we do if we don’t go out?”

“Well, I have a couple of ideas.” He kissed her then, his arms wrapping around her and holding her delicately against him as he deepened their kiss, caressing her tongue gently with his. Emma held tight to his shoulders as she felt her body melt against his. He really had a talented tongue, and it made her mind whirl just thinking about it. He pulled away from her and reveled at the look of bliss on her face, her eyes still closed as if savoring every second.

“Shall we go then?” he asked her.

“Uh huh,” she answered in a squeaky voice that she didn’t recognize, and Killian chuckled low in his throat.

Emma snapped her eyes open at the sound and slapped him playfully on the arm. “Jerk,” she said.

“Hey, I can’t help it if my kisses leave you speechless,” he laughed.

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?” she bantered, moving to a safer distance from him. She knew it had been a mistake to enter into his room.

“Pirate, remember,” he smirked at her. “Swan, your face tells me everything I need to know,” he continued, his eyes sparkling a little, “and your body.”

Emma huffed and turned her back on him, silently praying that her body would calm down. Killian came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her middle, drawing her back against him. “We can stay in if you want, love,” he said low, his lips against her skin. Emma shivered as his breath blew lightly across her neck and bit on her bottom lip to regain control of her traitorous body.

She wanted to, she really wanted to stay in and do indecent things to his body, but she moved away from him, turning to flash him a smile.

“Later, Pirate,” she said, her eyes matching his with desire, She resisted the urge to jump into his arms and let nature take its course. “Are you ready?”

“Just gotta grab my boots, find my wallet, and a belt,” Killian replied.

“And here I was under the impression that women took longer to get ready,” Emma quipped as she settled herself on the sofa along one of the walls in Killian’s room, deciding that would be a safer bet than the bed.

Killian smirked at her before turning and heading back into the bathroom to sort his hair. In a short time, Killian was finally ready, and they headed out of his room, stopping briefly at hers to grab her coat. They waved to Mary Margaret and David as they left the house.

“Where are we heading?” Killian asked.

“Where everybody knows your name,” Emma grinned back to him.

“Huh?” he asked, confused.

“Come on, you’ll see,” she replied, grabbing his hand, and they set off down the street.

... 

“Cheers,” Killian declared as he lifted his beer filled souvenir dimpled mug, and tapped it against Emma’s.

“Did you ever see the show?” he asked after she had taken a drink of her own, her tongue snaking out to wipe the froth from her lips.

“Reruns,” she answered. “How about you?”

“Yeah, reruns. If I did watch when I was younger, I don’t remember,” he responded while he was looking over the bar menu.

“Are you seriously going to eat?” she asked.

“Lass, I’m starved,” he replied, looking at her as if she should surely know that, then his expression changed, a hint of mischief and cheekiness mixed together. “I have a feeling I may have to keep my energy levels pretty high,” he added with his lopsided grin.

“Oh, you think I’m a sure thing, huh?” she queried, her eyebrow arched and a smirk on her lips.

“Not at all, darling,” he replied. “But I know I am.”

To that, Emma laughed, a good full-bellied laugh, as Killian continued to smile at her cheekily.  When he brought his beer mug to his lips again, she took the menu from him, and looked it over.

After a few minutes, she looked back to him to see that he was still watching her.

“What?” she asked him, genuinely curious as to what he was seeing.

“Nothing,” he answered, grin still plastered on his face. “Just seeing if I could picture you naked.”

“And?” she cocked her head.

“Oh, absolutely,” he laughed, signaling to a waitress. “Do you want another?” he asked, indicating to her beer.

“No, I’ll have a Title Town Twist Cocktail, please,” she replied, her head dipping again to the menu.

Killian nodded and looked again for the waitress.    

“I’ll share a combo platter with you,” she offered, looking back up at him.

“Oh, you will, will you?” he chuckled.

Emma giggled as she nodded, then looked back at the menu as the waitress finally got to them. Killian ordered their drinks, after again teasing the poor waitress because the bar didn’t sell his beer, then he ordered the combo platter, opting for the larger version, plus the Fenway Special.

After the waitress had disappeared with their order, Emma shook her head at him. “If you continue eating like this, you are going to have a very short life,” she commented, finishing her beer.

“I’m hoping to work it off,” he said seriously, staring into her eyes until she predictably rolled her own and shook her head.

They left the bar three hours later, both a little giddy from the alcohol and carrying a bag that held their souvenir glasses. As they wandered down the street back to the B&B, Killian’s arm wrapped around Emma’s shoulders to keep her warm. Somewhere along the way, she had lost her hat, and her scarf was dangling dangerously loose. With her body flush from the cocktails she had consumed, the cold wasn’t having any effect on her.

“I hope someone is still awake,” Killian mused, pulling her closer.

“Why?” Emma hiccupped.

“Because, neither of us has a key to get in,” he explained.

“Oh,” Emma said, her eyes growing wide. “Yeah, let’s hope that, then.”

Killian chuckled at her. “Are you drunk, Ms. Swan?”

“Absolutely not,” Emma replied indignantly, then stumbled slightly on the sidewalk. “Okay, maybe I have a little happy buzz going on, but I’m not drunk. I still know my name!”

“Well, that’s always a good sign that you’re not drunk,” he laughed.

They made it back to the house in less than nine minutes and were happy to see that someone was still awake, as the lights were still shining through the downstairs windows.

Killian cautiously opened the door, moving quickly in and pulling Emma after him. They sneaked through the entry to the parlor, with Emma giggling, and stopped quickly when they heard a loud cough. Killian turned to see David standing in the middle of the parlor, arms crossed against his chest. “Killian!”

“Sorry, Dad,” Killian grinned, then pointed to Emma. “It was her fault.”

“Hey!” Emma said indignantly. “Whatever it is, it’s not my fault.”

“It was you who insisted on that last cocktail,” Killian argued.

“Whatever,” David said to both of them as he moved to lock up the big front door. “Mary Margaret has left you a plate in the kitchen, Killian.”

Killian grinned as he swung his arm around David’s shoulder. “Ya know what? I love your wife.”

“Yeah, I know,” David grumbled as he headed for the stairs. Looking over to Emma he asked, “Can you turn the lights in the parlor off when you go up, please?”

Emma nodded as she removed her coat and hung it from the coat stand by the door. “I think I’ve lost my scarf, Killian,” she said and turned to see she was talking to herself. She threw her hands up in the air, knowing exactly where Killian had disappeared to and quickly entered the parlor to search for the light switch. After she had located it, she turned the lights off and headed to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there was Killian, seated at the large heavy oak table, picking up the food from the plate with his fingers.

“Have you heard of the new-fangled implement called a fork?” she teased him.

Killian looked up and waved his hand. “God made fingers first,” he replied.

“Uh huh,” she answered as she walked over and leaned around him to pick a strand of carrot from the plate.

“Well, there is no stopping you, is there?” Killian asked as he lifted some of the pie to his waiting lips.

“What do you mean?” Emma asked, sitting on the edge of the table.

“First, you drink a man’s rum, and now, you’re eating a man’s dinner.”

“Killian, you’ve had at least five meals today,” she reminded him.

“And….?”

Emma shook her head at him as he continued to eat more of the food. She leaned over again, reaching for another carrot when Killian slapped her hand, spraying gravy on her at the same time.

Emma looked at him in shock as he continued to chew his food with a devilish grin on his face. “Oh, you did not just do that!” she exclaimed.

“Oh, I think I did,” he returned, and before she could say anything else, he dipped his finger into the gravy and dabbed it onto her cheek.

Emma laughed in disgust at him and made to wipe away the gravy.

“Wait,” Killian stopped her, his hand holding onto her wrist to stop her. He stood from the stool and closed the gap between them, then licked the gravy from her face.

For a moment Emma was too stunned to move, then she said, “That’s gross!”

“No, it’s not,” Killian answered softly.

Emma lifted her eyes to meet his and practically crumbled at what she saw there, she couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone who was so open with his expressions as Killian was right now. She could almost feel the air crackle around them with sexual need. She felt her body responding immediately, the blood rushed in her ears, and goosebumps broke out along her arms. She felt the familiar fluttering in her stomach and knew there was no turning back. His hand around her wrist tightened, and she allowed Killian to move her arm around her back and pull her closer.

Killian held his lips an inch away from hers, their eyes still locked, he smiled at her before moving that last inch and brushing her lips gently with his own.

Emma couldn’t hold in the moan that escaped at the feel of his soft lips against hers as he kissed her tenderly, without rushing, savoring every second. She responded eagerly, trying to deepen their kiss, bringing her free hand to the back of his neck and holding him to her. She twisted on the table to maneuver her legs so he could stand between them. The pressure on her back from their joined hands moved her forward on the table so they were joined from shoulder to hip, their bodies pressed tight against each other.

She pulled against his hand, wanting to feel more of him, but this only made him hold tighter, the eroticism of the moment made her melt against him, and her abdomen swirl with pleasure. He was driving her crazy with his slow, intense kisses, and Emma squirmed as the ache between her legs increased.

Eventually, Killian pulled away from her, his grin returning as he watched the flush of her cheeks deepen. His head was buzzing from the alcohol, and with that thought, he pulled further away from her, his grin falling.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” he said, almost regretfully.

“What?” Emma practically shrieked.

Killian chuckled low at the shocked expression that replaced the look of lust she had a few seconds ago.

“Love, we’re a little tipsy here. This needs to wait until we have full capacity of our actions,” he told her seriously, finally letting go of her wrist.

“You have got to be kidding me,” she retorted. “I’m in complete control of my actions.”

“Swan, I don’t want to do anything that you’ll regret in the morning.”

“Who’s gonna regret this,” she asked, trying to close the distance between them. Then she stopped and looked him in the eye. “Why won’t you call me by my name?”

“I’ve called you by your name before, love,” was his answer, but he ducked his head, not looking at her.

“Once,” Emma said. “Only once. When you met me in that bookstore.”

Killian just shrugged, his eyes gleaming as he moved in to kiss her again. When he retreated this time, he pulled her from the table and led her from the kitchen, slapping the light switch as they passed.

A few minutes later, and they stood outside her door.

“I guess, goodnight then,” Emma smirked, thinking he would change his mind now that they had moved upstairs.

“You do realize this is killing me, right?” he told her as he leaned into her.

“It doesn’t have to,” she answered invitingly, as she fingered a button on his shirt.

“Aye, you’ll definitely be the end of me,” he predicted, capturing her lips with his own, and pressing her against the door, so she could feel how much he wanted her. Here he was, trying to do the right thing, and she was making it virtually impossible.

“Jesus, Killian,” Emma hissed out, breaking away from his lips and practically rubbing herself against him. “We are two consenting adults here.”

“Who are slightly intoxicated. When this happens, love, I want to know you want it as much as I do without adding alcohol to the mix.”

“You don’t think I want this?” she asked before lifting onto her toes and grazing his neck with her lips.

“Shit, lass,” Killian whispered, ready to throw his newfound ethics to the wind, but as she lowered back onto her heels, he took her face in his hands.

“Tomorrow,” he promised,more to convince himself, than to reassure her. He knew it would happen, it was inevitable. Was it wrong that he wanted it to be more than a drunken fumble?

Emma nodded, understanding what he was saying, even if her body was contemplating a revolt against her brain. She considered for a moment how he would react if she dragged him into her room and tied him to the bed.

With one last kiss, he left her at her door with an aching inside of her that only one person could soothe now.

Emma woke in the middle of the night, her throat dry and desperately in need of a cold drink. She had been dreaming about things she had no business dreaming about. Now her body was hot and sweaty, and there was still no relief in sight, no matter how much she tried. She crawled from the bed and went to the dresser that held the small fridge, opening it to find no water in there.

She sighed deeply, remembering she had finished the last bottle before falling asleep.She closed the cooler, debating whether to risk the tap water, or sneak down to the kitchen to find a bottle of nice, cold water.

The cold water won, and five minutes later, she was in the kitchen taking long gulps from a bottle. She stood by the sink looking out onto the small backyard that was covered in crisp clean snow with large flakes still falling from the sky. The moonlight from the full moon breaking through the clouds made the whole area bright.

“Couldn’t sleep?” a voice asked from behind her, and she turned quickly, spilling some of the water as she spun around.

And there he was, standing before her in a pair of sweats and nothing else.

Emma shook her head, not trusting her voice right now. Her eyes were transfixed on his as he walked closer to her. She swallowed involuntarily at the look his eyes held, a look of hunger, desire, and pure lust.

“I couldn’t sleep, either,” he continued as he got nearer, and he reached for the bottle in her hand.

She gladly relinquished it, their stare unwavering, and was vaguely aware of him taking a long, slow drink.

He held the water back for her to take, and when she didn’t make a move, he smirked and placed it beside the sink.

“Do you still have that alcohol-induced buzz going on?” he asked her, leaning extremely close without their bodies touching.

She slowly shook her head, still not trusting herself to answer him, and wondered if he could hear her body humming at the sight of him.

“Good, me neither,” he finished, and then all bets were off as they came together at the same time, lips crashing, tongues tangling, hands touching, bodies reacting. Killian lifted Emma and perched her on the edge of the counter, their lips never breaking their connection, his hand moving to palm her breast through the material of her top.

Emma leaned eagerly into his touch, her hands grasping either side of his face, guiding their kiss. The tips of her fingers rubbed along his facial hair, while her legs wrapped around his waist drawing him closer. She shivered when his thumb grazed over her erect nipple, a groan of delight followed, and her hips moved against his before she could stop them.

Killian echoed her groan at the feel of her heat, and moved his lips down to her throat, sucking and biting all the way until he met the soft skin where her neck joined her shoulder. Here, he bared his teeth against her creamy skin, biting gently, then licking quickly to relieve any pain he may have caused. Judging from the purring sounds she was making, he figured she was enjoying it as much as he was. His hand found its way under her red tank top to caress the side of her breast tenderly.The touch was in stark contrast to the harsh actions his teeth and lips were making on her neck, as if he was determined to leave his mark on her delicate body.

“Killian,” she moaned low, in an almost dream-like voice, and he pulled away to look at her. She smiled blissfully, and he relished the look on her face, her lips full and swollen from his kisses, and her eyes bright with excitement. In the moonlight that shone through the kitchen window, he could see that pink tint back in her cheeks, he glowed with pride that he had caused this reaction.

She moved her upper body away from him slightly and pulled her top from her body, grinning cheekily at him.

“Oh God, Emma,” he whispered, before he lowered his mouth to her exposed breast and encased her nipple.

Emma sighed as his warm tongue flicked at her, her eyes closing at the sound of her name on his lips. Then she registered he had actually called her by her name. “Why now?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

“Hrmmm,” he replied around her breast, not wanting to move from her.

She wound her fingers into his hair, pulling gently on his inky black locks but with enough force to remove him from her. She looked deeply into his eyes and repeated. “Why now? Why choose this moment to say my name?”

He moved away from her breast only to latch his mouth with hers in a sweet kiss. “Because I knew the moment I said your name would be the moment of my undoing. No turning back.”

Emma beamed at his response, her eyes glistening brightly at his words, and then her smile faded, the light dimming in her eyes. “Killian, you do realize I’m only here for a few more days?” she asked as her fingers gently played with the silky strands of his hair.

Killian’s eyes scanned her face, enthralled with her beauty and nodded. “And we are going to make it the best days of our lives,” he told her sincerely and leaned in again to press a gentle kiss against her lips.

Emma grinned against his lips and when he made to move back, she stopped him, slipping her tongue out to tease him until he opened his mouth for her. She pressed her chest against his, and he moaned at the feel of her skin on his as he wrapped his arms around her waist. Holding her securely, Killian carried her away from the countertop, and in the direction of the stairs and her bedroom.

 ...

“Oh God,” Emma cried out, her hand fisting the sheets beneath her, her back arching as Killian pinned her hips to the bed and fluttered his tongue across her clit. Her skin was coated in a fine sheen of sweat, her vision blurring as her core tightened viciously in preparation for her orgasm.

She’d already come twice, as much from the sight of his dark head of hair between her legs, as  from his wickedly gifted mouth.

“I’m ready,” she panted as she pushed her fingers into his hair, feeling the dampness at the roots. His restraint was costing him and she knew it.

“I’ll decide when you’re ready,” he mumbled against her tender skin, his tongue flicking out to caress her inner thigh.

“I want you..” the rest of her demand was lost as she trembled through another climax, her body aching with the need to feel him in her.

“You’re so sensitive right now,” he said, lifting his head and licking his lips, his eyes shining with obvious amusement. “You’re coming like crazy.”

“I’d come harder if you were inside me,” she gasped out.

He smirked as he moved up her body inch by inch until he was hovering above her. Tilting his head, he lowered his mouth and lightly traced the seam of her lips with the tip of his tongue. She gripped his lean hips, arching upward to try and feel his body against hers.

He finally settled between her legs, his erection lying hard and hot between the lips of her sex. She moved, rubbing her wet cleft shamelessly along the heated length of his cock. He rolled his hips to nestle the broad head of his penis against her before he pushed gently against her, parting her, spreading her open as he slipped just the tip in. She withered against the tight fit, her body resisting.

“You’re not ready yet,” he whispered, afraid he would hurt her.

 _Not ready!_ her mind screamed. “Fuck me. God… just fuck me!”

He reached down with one hand and grabbed her hip, stemming her frenzied attempts to push up and take more of him. Her nails dug into the tight curves of his ass and she tugged him against her. His features tightened, as if he was pained. His lips parted with a gasp, his chest beginning to heave with labored breaths, and a muscle spasmed as his jaw clenched, while his skin grew hotter, searing her beneath him. She was mesmerized by the piercing blue eyes and the unmistaken need that shifted through them like smoke, her pulse quickened in response to the change in him.

The mattress shifted as he dug his feet in, his body bracing… and he jerked, pushing himself fully into her. His pleasured groan vibrated against her, his cock sinking in, filling her completely. He didn’t stop, but immediately withdrew, only to ram home again, then again and again, each time the pace quicker, the push harder, until she was sure his strokes would ignite an orgasm to end all others. He released her hips and let her rock upward, let her seek the perfect pressure on her clit to set her off again. With eyes locked, they moved together, both racing to the inevitable end. He thrust, stroking through the trembling walls of her sex with the thick length of his cock: Claiming her, Possessing her. And she willingly gave herself over to him, and the sensation of him inside her.

….

 

 


	5. December 24th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifth installment of my Christmas CS fic!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who have left Kudos and comments. Hope you're all enjoying it! Drop a review to let me know, think of it as a christmas gift to me :)
> 
> Thanks, as always, to the fabulous @ilovemesomekillianjones for giving up her precious time to beta this fic for me. You're awesome!

December 24th  

Emma awoke after a few hours’ sleep to a dimly-lit room. The sun was trying desperately to penetrate the heavy drapes at the windows, and she had a feeling she should have been awake long before now. She could feel Killian still pressed tightly against her back; one of his arms wrapped around her waist, the other under her neck and stretched out against the pillow. She wanted to resist the urge to move, just savor the moment, but her mind had other ideas, and she involuntarily stretched out against Killian’s body. She was happy, satiated, and slightly sore in places, and she relished the feel of Killian’s nakedness behind her. She smiled as Killian’s hand snaked up her body to grasp her breast, and his fingers stroked gently over the plump, smooth skin.

She settled back against him, enjoying his touch way too much, and then she suddenly sat up, turning slightly to him. “It’s Christmas Eve,” she grinned.

“Merry Christmas, I think I got my present in the early hours of this morning,” he beamed back.

Emma blushed. “Behave.”

“But I’m so good at being bad,” he quipped playfully as he inched closer to her, his arm reaching for her and caressing her thigh. “And you said there would be no pillaging and plundering,” he added with a grin.

“Nu huh, Pirate. No time to play. We have a lot to do today. I need to find a present for David and Mary Margaret,” she told him as she climbed off the bed, her eyes wandering the room for something to cover her nakedness. On finding nothing, she just headed for the bathroom as she was, figuring, after what has passed between the two of them several times during night, there was absolutely no need to be shy around him now. “Do you have anything for Mary Margaret and David,” she called back into the room as she switched the shower on.

“Why?” His voice floated into the bathroom from her main quarters.

Emma stuck her head around the door. “You’re kidding me, right?”

Killian grinned as he shook his head.

“It’s Christmas tomorrow. These are your closest friends. You have to get them something,” she said sternly.

“You do realize I have an excellent view of your arse in the mirror behind you, don’t you?”

Emma huffed at him and turned back into the bathroom and climbed into the shower. “Are you coming or not?” she called out to him.

“Almost,” he answered, closer than she expected as he climbed in beside her.

In the shower, they both lazed under the hot pounding water. She tried hard, but couldn’t keep her eyes from his beautiful cock. She made a move to reach for him, suddenly desperate to have him in her mouth, to feel that hard flesh against her lips. Killian stopped her, his hands capturing hers and pushed them back against the glass wall as his thigh slid in between her own. "I can’t wait." 

Emma could feel the wetness seeping onto the hair-roughened flesh of his thigh as he moved it up, grinding it against her. Then his hands released her and grasped her thighs, spreading them apart and lifted her up off her feet as he insinuated himself between her legs. He crowded her up against the glass of the shower.

She cried out at the first touch of his cock against her, the slick head barely nudging her clit before sliding between her swollen lips in a teasing motion. She moaned at the tenderness, appreciated it, since he’d already fucked her raw. Finally, Emma felt him at her opening, the heat of his cock branding her as he began to inch inside. She grasped his shoulders, bracing herself as he slid his entire throbbing length inside of her. He rested there for a moment, his breath ragged as he struggled to maintain control.

Unable to resist, she rocked against him, moaning as the motion forced him even deeper inside. His hands grew rough at her wild movements, pulling her legs up to wrap around his waist until only his body was holding her up against the glass. Then he began to plunge home with long deep strokes that started leisurely, but grew faster as the sensations made them both cry out.

His head was nestled on her shoulder, his arms pulling at her hips and his hands holding her ass as he thrust up into her body, burying himself inside her as far as he could go. Emma was barely aware of the cool glass wall against her back as he bucked into her, filling her with his cock until it was all she could feel. His hot mouth fastened on the skin of her neck, latching onto the sensitive skin there and biting down as he slammed his body into his mate.

Emma’s fingernails dug deep into his shoulders as she began to spasm around his cock, each tremor causing her flesh to tighten around him as another climax tore through her. This was it, the culmination of every sexual thought she’d ever had for this man was bound up in the deep strokes of his cock inside her. Her own cry of completion mingled with his as she felt his cock pulsing inside her. His hips continued to piston against her, his cock ramming itself into her as his orgasm shook them.

Finally, he collapsed against her and the glass, his hands loosening their bruising grip on her ass. But he continued to use the weight of his body to keep her nailed in place. Emma didn't know how long they stayed like that, with her legs wrapped around his waist as he leaned against her, both panting as they tried to catch their breath, both still reeling from the after-effects of intense sex.

Killian allowed himself the pleasure of remembering every dirty searing moment of it, of her. She was everything he imagined and more, and no matter what he tossed at her, she took it and gave it back tenfold. Seeing her frantic movements, he let the sensation take over again.

Killian left her to go back to his room to dress, and she finished getting ready by herself. She bounded down the stairs, her excitement for the day growing. She finally remembered to bring down the tree ornament she’d bought for the Nolan’s Christmas tree the other day, and moved to the big tree to hang it from one of the green branches.

“Emma, I have some coffee in the kitchen if you want a cup,” Mary Margaret told her as she came up beside her in front of the tree, her hands behind her back.

“That would be great,” Emma beamed. “I thought I would add to your collection,” she continued, indicating the shining gold bauble.

Mary Margaret leaned in to look closer and smiled when she read what Emma personalized the bauble with. _For the Charming’s B &B. With thanks. Emma._

Mary Margaret laughed. “That’s a lot to get on a bauble.”

“Yeah, I know,” Emma laughed back.

They stood together for a minute watching the lights flicker on the tree, and then Mary Margaret turned to Emma. “Thank you, Emma,” she said sincerely.

“It’s only an ornament,” Emma replied, then grinned when she heard Killian coming down the stairs, whistling some Christmas tune. Mary Margaret smiled back at Emma as she brought her hands from behind her back, holding Emma’s red pj top.

“Oh,” Emma said, blushing deeply as she took the piece of clothing from her, and Mary Margaret chuckled as Killian entered the room.

“There you are,” he chirped as both women turned to him. “I’m starved, Mary Margaret, I seem to have missed breakfast,” he continued, turning his head to kiss Emma, and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

“I’m not cooking you a full breakfast, Killian,” Mary Margaret returned sternly. “You can have coffee and toast and be grateful.”

“You’re so bitchy when you aren’t getting any,” Killian retorted.

“No, you’re too happy when you are,” she returned with a smile. She left the room, calling over her shoulder. “I’m putting the toast on, so no shenanigans you two.”

“Yes, Mom,” Killian called back to her. He turned to Emma, “What’s that you’ve got, Swan?” he asked, perching himself against the back of the loveseat.

“My pajama top,” she replied holding it out. “Seems I left it in the kitchen last night.”

“We did leave in a hurry,” he smirked.

“And I see we are back to Swan,” she commented with a raised brow.

“I thought you’d have had enough of me calling you by your name last night,” he replied with his sexy, lopsided smile.

Emma draped her top across the loveseat arm then wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I could never get enough of you saying my name, moaning my name, or calling my name out in ecstasy,” she admitted, punctuating each time she said _name_ with a kiss.

Killian’s expression turned devious as he moved closer to her ear. “How about if I whisper it?” he asked.

“I don’t know, we haven’t tried that,” Emma answered, not moving an inch as his lips brushed her ear.

“Emma,” he whispered low, and Emma’s body shuddered in response, seemingly conditioned to his voice and her name on his lips.

“Yeah, that works, too,” she breathed out, eyes closed as visions of their activities sprung to her mind, and her stomach seemed to flip.  She stepped away from him quickly; her hand outstretched, holding him at bay.

“Okay, new rules,” she said breathlessly, “No saying my name when we are in public.”

“Whatever you say,” he answered, “Emma.”

Emma grinned as that flutter in her stomach made itself known again. “Stop.”

“Toast is ready,” Mary Margaret called from the kitchen.

Killian stood from where he was leaning, his hands reaching for her face, and he pulled her to him for a kiss. When he broke their kiss, he hugged her close to him. “I don’t want to stop,” he confessed, barely above a whisper, but she heard him.

A few hours later, Killian and Emma were wandering around Faneuil Hall Market again. Emma wearing a borrowed scarf from Mary Margaret and Killian’s black beanie which she had dug from the bottom of her purse.

Killian had tried to convince her to let him wear the beanie, and he would gladly relinquish the ridiculous hat she made him buy the other day. Emma had replied by pulling on the side ties to give him a kiss. After a while Killian had insisted they separate for half an hour so he could do something _manly,_ and they agreed to meet at Starbucks when they were finished.

Emma gladly sprang into action, looking for a gift for Mary Margaret and David, as well as something for Elsa, and a new shirt for Killian.  

There had been a sticky moment in the store where she was buying Killian a soft wine-colored, button down shirt, as she had no idea of what size to buy. As she looked around wildly for someone around the same size, she spotted Killian walking slowly past the window, his eyes intent on something in the bag he was carrying. She quickly grabbed a sales assistant and pointed him out. With that crisis averted, she continued with her shopping, finding the items she needed for Elsa, as well as her friends, new and old and then she made a quick dash into Victoria’s Secret.

She needed something else to wear this evening and found an extremely cute shirtdress but discarded it quickly, as it would also involve buying new shoes. As much as that idea appealed to her inner shoe diva, the thought of over packing her suitcase on her homeward journey was most definitely not something she wanted to do. Eventually she found a rose colored lace v-neck top, and then a nude colored camisole to wear under it. “Perfect,” she smiled as she headed over to the lingerie section.

Twenty minutes later, Emma was seated in a comfortable squishy sofa by the window in Starbucks. She was nursing a grande Gingerbread Latte with whipped cream, a pure indulgence drink. Her coat and borrowed hat and scarf were beside her on the worn leather, and she was looking out the window, though not really seeing. Her mind was far away, questioning what she was doing with Killian. She knew he was someone she could fall hard for, and as much as the thought appealed to her, there was the whole geographical problem, which needed to be addressed. A smile spread across her face when her eyes focused on him, walking out of the Victoria’s Secret store she had been in earlier. He was grinning to himself, and Emma found herself wondering what he had bought, and was it for her? Or did he have a girlfriend back home he had neglected to mention? She answered her own question straight away with a resounding no. Mary Margaret surely would have said something if he did.

She noticed there was nobody being served at the moment so she quickly moved to the counter and ordered him a plain coffee and a ham and swiss panini. She arrived back at the sofa with his drink just as he barreled through the door, the grin on his face widening when he saw her.

“Hey, love, I thought you’d still be shopping,” he said after he had placed a swift kiss on her lips. He quickly removed his jacket and hat, throwing them down on top of hers, and collapsed beside her on the old leather sofa.

“Nah, I’m done,” she smiled back to him, then leaned over making as if to look in his bags. “What do you have in there, Pirate?”

“No way, Swan,” he laughed, gently pushing her back with his hand so she couldn’t get a sneaky peek. Killian leaned in closer to her so his lips were against her ear. “That’s the thing with surprises, they need to be kept a secret, Emma,” he whispered, chuckling sardonically when her whole body quivered.

Killian turned his head when a barista placed a plate on the small table in front of them containing his hot panini. He looked back to Emma, his eyes bright, and before he could stop himself, he laughed out, “I think I’m in love.”

Emma shook her head at him as he pulled back quickly from her, his face registering his shock at what he had just said. She patted his knee, “Don’t worry, Killian. I know it’s the thought of your hunger talking.”

Killian gave her a shy smile as he reached for the panini, bringing it to his mouth to  take a big bite, he cursed when the hot cheese burnt his tongue. He held the half sandwich away from him as he stuck his tongue out, trying to alleviate the pain. Emma took that opportunity to take a smaller bite of his food, careful that she didn’t repeat Killian’s mistake.

“And there you go again, eating a man’s food. Why didn’t you get our own?” he moaned.

“Jeez, Killian, it was only a small bite,” Emma retorted, a hand covering her mouth as she chewed on her stolen food.

Killian just shook his head then blew on the cheese before shoving as much as he could into his mouth to stop her from eating anymore.

“Don’t worry, your food is safe,” she promised. Returning to her drink, she sat back against the soft cushions.

Killian relaxed a little more and settled beside her, one hand falling naturally to her thigh, as he continued eating his snack.

“So what do you have planned for the rest of the day?” he asked her, reaching for the other half of his sandwich.

“I don’t know. I need to find some paper to wrap my gifts, but other than that, I’m open to suggestions.”

“I have plenty of suggestions, love,” he smirked.

“Okay,” she played along, “are any of those ideas something we can do in public?”

“Depends,” Killian answered cryptically.

“On what?” Emma asked cautiously.

“On how you feel about public nudity.”

“If there is the slightest chance I could get arrested, then you can forget about it, buddy,” she rolled her eyes.

“Then we’ll just have to take it back to the B&B,” he replied, then leaned into her for a kiss, taking the tall cup from her hand, and blindly placing it on the table.

Emma gladly gave him what he requested, not realizing he had moved her back down on the sofa, until Killian pulled away quickly. Whipping his head to the side with a menacing growl, Emma focused on a Starbucks employee looking nervously at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said timidly, her eyes shooting to Killian, “but I’m afraid I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

“Why?” Killian asked, his voice intimidating.

“Because,” the poor girl started, then stopped, looking back to Emma. “Because…” and she gave up and just held her hands out to them both.

Emma looked back to Killian. His hand had wandered under her sweater while they were kissing, and obviously, the establishment didn’t want to ruin their family – oriented business. She pushed him back from her and sat up. “Sorry,” she said to the barista, “won’t happen again. Can we at least finish our drinks?”

The girl looked back to the other employees who were watching her, then back to Killian and Emma.  “As long as you’re gone by the time the manager’s back, that’s cool.”

“Thanks,” Emma returned with a smile, reaching for her cup. She finished her drink, while Killian bristled beside her.

“I can’t believe they are kicking us out for a little kiss,” he said indignantly.

“It was more than a little kiss,” Emma giggled, setting her empty cup back down, noting the looks a woman with short brown hair was giving Killian from a table not too far from them.  Emma watched as Killian winked to the other customer, and the woman blushed a little but kept her gaze on Killian.

“They are only jealous,” Killian smirked to her, then leaned over to pick his coffee up, finally drinking the cooled liquid, and eyeing Emma over the top of the cup, his eyes twinkling with humor.

Standing up when they finished, Emma handed him his jacket and hat, smiling at him when he reluctantly took the offending wool item from her. She quickly tugged his beanie over her blonde hair and slipped into her coat, wrapping Mary Margaret’s scarf around her neck, just before Killian made a grab for her hand and pulled her from the coffeehouse.

“Come on, love,” he called loudly as they maneuvered through the door, “Let’s go find somewhere we can fuck in peace.”

Emma turned to offer an apologetic smile to the workers, and other customers of the coffeehouse, which turned into a gleeful smirk at the envious looks she received from a few of the female customers.

Once they were outside, she playfully hit him with her paper bags. “That was uncalled for, Killian.”

“Nah, you know you loved it,” he teased, tugging her closer to him and wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they continued down the colonnade.

They found a stall among the wooden pushcarts that sold Christmas paper, and they both bought what they required, and then decided to head back to the B&B.

After Emma had wrapped her gifts, she decided to place them under the tree in the parlor for lack of one of her own. She brought them down to the warm room, arranging them neatly under the huge tree. Mary Margaret wandered in as she was doing this and looked at her with a puzzled expression.

“I hope you don’t mind?” Emma asked, indicating the gifts. “I may not be home for the holidays, but there is a tree, so I just thought I’d put my gifts under.”

“That’s fine,” Mary Margaret smiled as she placed the blanket she held in her hands on the back of the loveseat.

Emma smiled at the blanket, adorned with a jolly Santa Claus and a snowman. “Are you still free this evening?” she asked Mary Margaret.

“Yeah. Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson will be checking out this afternoon,” Mary Margaret replied, settling herself into one of the armchairs beside the fire. “Did you buy Killian a present?”

“Yeah,” Emma answered, sitting in the chair opposite Mary Margaret. “Do you think I shouldn’t have?”

“Killian finds it hard to accept gifts, Emma,” Mary Margaret said gently, not wanting to upset her. “So don’t be too down-hearted if he has a little hissy fit.”

Emma snorted. “Somehow, I can’t imagine Killian having a little hissy fit. I think more full-blown, King Kong style tantrum would be more likely.”

Mary Margaret laughed at Emma’s correct judgment of her friend. “You have certainly gotten to know him well within the last few days.”

Emma looked sideways at Mary Margaret, wondering if she was referring to the fact they had fallen into bed after only three days of knowing each other.

“Oh, please don’t take that the wrong way,” Mary Margaret added quickly. “What you and Killian do is completely up to you both. I’m not going to judge you. What I mean is, you seem to understand him well. His moods and all that. You certainly don’t put up with any of his shit.”

Emma grinned as Killian entered the room. She watched as he looked down at the presents she had placed under the tree, and then back to her. She could also see him deciding whether to get the things he had bought, and she motioned him over with an incline of her head.

He moved quickly to her, and she stood so he could sit in the chair, then settled herself back down in his lap, sitting sideways against him facing the fire. She was determined she would have as much contact with him as possible during the short time they had. And, judging by the way his hands automatically wrapped around her, finding a resting place somewhere, anywhere on her body, he felt exactly the same way.

“So what do you have planned for this evening, love?” Killian asked her.

“I know something we can do,” Mary Margaret interrupted whatever Emma was going to say.

“What?” Killian didn’t like the look of excitement on his friend’s face.

“David and I have promotional tickets for Tavern Night at the Boston Tea Party Museum,” Mary Margaret beamed.

“Tavern Night?” Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Yeah, it’s this awesome place where they dress in colonial costumes and you have a meal and there’s entertainment, and it’s just so much fun,” Mary Margaret gushed.

“Do we have to dress in costume?” Emma queried, not sure she was up for that.

“No,” Mary Margaret answered.

“That’s a pity,” Killian lamented, before turning his head to Emma. “I think you’d look quite fetching in a bar wench get-up.”

Emma shook her head at him, a wry smile ghosting her lips. “I think that sounds intriguing,” she agreed.

“The wench costume?” Killian asked, his eyes sparkling with the thought.

“No, the tavern. And after we can go to a bar.”

“What bar?”

“Mija Cantina and Tequila Bar,” Emma grinned.

“Maybe that’s not such a good idea,” Killian said, though his smile told a different story. “Mary Margaret isn’t that good at holding her liquor. And judging from last night, neither are you.”

“I wasn’t drunk last night,” Emma said with irritation. “I was just a little tipsy, and that’s because I mixed my drinks. If I stick to tequila, I’ll be just fine.”

“Are you sure?” he asked her skeptically.

“Don’t worry, Pirate. I’ll be just fine to keep you entertained all night,” she assured him, patting his cheek. Emma blushed when Mary Margaret coughed opposite them, she’d forgotten the other woman was there.

“Don’t mind me,” Mary Margaret joked, as Emma’s cheeks flushed. “But I have to agree with Killian; I don’t handle my alcohol very well.”

“Nobody has to drink if they don’t want to,” Emma shrugged.

“Okay,” Mary Margaret answered, still unsure. “Oh, what the heck! It’s Christmas, and it’s been forever since David and I have been out together.”

“So it’s a plan?” Emma asked her, a brow raised in question.

“Yep, I’m in,” Mary Margaret agreed.

Emma’s head swung back to Killian, her eyes asking the question. “Wherever you are, I’ll be,” he grinned to her.

Emma’s insides turned to mush at his words, and again, her brain tried to rationalize this thing between them. Neal had never said anything like that to her during their full three years together, and while she knew she shouldn’t compare those three years to the three days she’d had with Killian, she couldn’t help the internal crave that this would never end.

She held his face between her hands and kissed him gently with no rush and oblivious to Mary Margaret’s movement as she left the two alone.

They sat together in companionable silence, each with their own thoughts, Emma still sitting in Killian’s lap, her head leaning against his shoulder. One of Killian’s hands had wandered under her shirt and was tracing idle patterns against her stomach while Emma’s fingers moved up and down his arm in feather-like touches, leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind.

On one sweep down his arm, she continued until she held his hand in hers, her fingers delicately gliding along his. She lifted one of his digits and traced over it with the pads of her own, as if committing to memory every inch of his hand. She repeated her actions with the other three, Killian watching her intently a wistful smile on his face. Finally, she lifted his hand and brought it to her lips, her eyes shifting to look deep into his and she placed a faint kiss against his thumb.

“Oh, Morris,” a voice said softly. They both turned around, Emma still holding his large hand in both of hers, to see the elderly Mr. and Mrs. Gleeson standing under the archway. “Don’t  they look so cute together?” Mrs. Gleeson continued. “They remind me so much of us when we were younger.”

Emma and Killian looked at each other, grinning as the couple entered the parlor and sat on the loveseat, holding hands.

“Do you lovebirds mind if we,” Mrs. Gleeson looked at her husband for a second, “what do they say these days,” then she looked back to the two by the fire, “cramp your style? Is that correct?”

Emma smiled, “We don’t mind at all. Do we Killian?” She turned to see a grimace on his face, so she elbowed him in the ribs.

“You know, we met in Boston,” Mrs. Gleeson told them, leaning forward a little in her seat. “At Christmas,” and she added, as if to emphasize the point. “That’s why we always return to this beautiful city.”

“How long have you been married?” Emma asked politely.

“Fifty-one years,” Mr. Gleeson answered with a loving smile to his wife.

“I won’t lie to you both and say they were all blissful years, but we got through a lot together, and I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Mrs. Gleeson said, patting her husband’s hand where it held hers.

“Mr. Gleeson,” David called from the small desk they had placed in the hall, to take care of check out needs.

Mr. Gleeson squeezed his wife’s hand and stood, walking around the loveseat. He paused when he got closer to Emma and Killian, and leaned over a little conspiratorially to Killian and said, “I’d keep hold of this one. She’s a real looker.”

“Don’t I know it,” Killian grinned back. “A firecracker too.”

“Killian,” Emma exclaimed, her hand hitting his stomach in disgust.

“Just telling it like it is, love,” Killian beamed.

Emma huffed at him, turning away slightly and folding her arms across her chest.

“Oh don’t you worry, young man,” Mrs. Gleeson said with dainty smile on her aged face. “Us women like to pretend we are angry with our men when in truth, we just want to rip their clothes off. Isn’t that right, dearie?”

Emma’s shocked expression over the older woman’s comment was a sight, never suspecting in a million years such a polite old lady would say such a thing. She could feel Killian chuckling at what Mrs. Gleeson had said.

“Are you ready, Martha?” Mr. Gleeson called from the hallway. Mrs. Gleeson stood and walked back to meet her husband, patting Killian gently on his shoulder as she passed.

“It was nice to meet you,” Emma called to them as they rejoined under the archway, and Emma couldn’t stop her smile as she noticed the mistletoe above their head. She pointed upwards, and the elderly couple both looked up at the same time.

“Do you remember our first kiss under the mistletoe, Morris?” Mrs. Gleeson asked her husband.

“Of course I do, Martha,” and he turned to her, gathering her in his arms and kissed her gently on the lips.

Emma sighed at the sight, thinking it was so cute, this couple was still so in love after all this time, her eyes flickering to Killian to see he looked a little uncomfortable.

When they moved apart, Mr. Gleeson looked back to Emma and Killian.

“You kids have a great Christmas now,” he said as he bent to pick up their suitcase.

“Oh, let me,” David offered, taking the case from his hands and heading out with it.

“Merry Christmas,” Emma called after them as they moved out the door with one last wave. She turned to Killian, her eyes roaming his features as she heard a car door close, and David bounded back into the house, closing the door from the cold air.

“Killian, throw another log on the fire,” he called as he passed the parlor entry and headed for the stairs.

Killian’s eyes had been locked with Emma’s as she studied him. Placing his hands on her hips, he lifted her from his lap so he could stand and do as David had asked.

While Killian poked at the fire with the long iron, Emma moved around the room until she was standing under the mistletoe hanging from the dark wood of the archway. When Killian turned to her she smiled at him, beckoning him over with her finger.

He moved torturously slow over to her, and when he stood before her, her eyes drifted up and he followed her gaze until he spied the foliage above them. He smirked as he wrapped his arms around her, gathering her as close to him as he could. “So, you wanna rip my clothes off yet?” he asked her, popping the ‘T’ again.

“All the time,” she replied, her hands roaming over the muscles in his arms and up and over his broad shoulders, and when he didn’t lower his head to her, she reached up on her tiptoes so she could kiss him. She purposely kept their kiss sweet and gentle, pulling back slightly when Killian tried to deepen it, then returned to torture him a little more. Killian responded by holding her tighter against him and tried again to turn the kiss more passionate. Emma managed to move away once more, giggling at him when he growled low in his throat at her teasing.

Her giggles turned to an ‘oomph’ of surprise when he moved her back against a wall, pinning her to it so she couldn’t move. Killian practically ravished her lips with his own, until Emma could hardly remember her own name, her legs long given up on holding her; she relied completely on the wall and Killian to keep her upright.

“Oh shit, Killian,” she whispered when he finally released her lips, her breathing ragged.

“It turns me on so much when you swear, love,” he whispered against her ear.

Emma huffed at this. “Everything makes you horny,” she retorted with a smile.

“No, just everything about you,” he reasoned before capturing her lips again. He picked her up this time, her legs wrapping around him on their own accord, and it wasn’t too much later before he stumbled into her room with her.

\---

“Okay,” Emma grinned around the table at her new friends. “One more for the road,” then she signaled for a waitress so she could order more drinks.

They’d had a full night, filled with fun and laughter at Tavern Night. It had been a true experience, people dressed in colonial apparel, lots of hot buttered rum, and _dancing._ Emma gave a short snort of laughter, “I can’t believe you made me dance.”

“Like I told you, love, the only thing you need is a partner who knows what they’re doing,” Killian bragged.

“And just how do you know how to dance like that, what was that dance? It certainly wasn’t a waltz.”

“I have a deep knowledge of a great many things, Swan,” Killian returned cryptically.

“I don’t doubt that one bit.”

There’d been bawdy songs and good food, strange games and stranger dancing, but it had been a night they all truly enjoyed.

Now they were finishing their night with a few drinks at the tequila bar. Mary Margaret really looked like she couldn’t take anymore liquor. The raven-haired beauty was snuggled up against her husband with a wisp of a smile on her face, and her eyes sort of glazed over.

“One more,” Mary Margaret agreed, holding her hand up, her index finger pointing up to indicate one.

Emma had truly introduced Mary Margaret to the delights of tequila, taking the opportunity to try a few she hadn’t yet sampled herself. She thought the idea of their _Tequila flights_ was genius. That way you could taste different tequilas and find the one you liked the most.

“This place is amazing,” Mary Margaret grinned to her husband. “Why have we never been here before?”

“Because, until recently, you swore you didn’t like tequila,” David answered her with a grin.

“But I loooovvve tequila,” Mary Margaret replied a confused look on her face.

“You see what you have done, Swan?” Killian said to Emma from his place beside her, his arm draped casually across her shoulders.

Emma beamed at Mary Margaret as she lifted her hand to interlace her fingers with Killian’s, where they hung just past her shoulder. “I didn’t force her to try the drink. She could have stuck to her sangria,” Emma replied.

“I think when she tried your Mexican Mudslide, that was the beginning of her undoing,” David laughed watching his wife as she picked up the drink menu and tried to read it. She moved the booklet in closer to her eyes and then away, a look of concern on her face.

“I think I need glasses, David,” she said sadly.

“No, baby, you just need a clear head,” David reasoned as he reached to take the menu from her.

“Hey,” a male voice said.

“Well, hello,” Emma grinned back to the new waiter who had appeared at their table. He was tall and muscular with light blond hair and a smattering of soft looking facial hair on his chin. He was tanned and looked like he belonged on the west coast, not here with the snow. His blue eyes sparkled as Emma looked at him, seeming to forget the man sitting beside her.

“What can I get you guys?” he asked with a smile and a wink to Emma.

“Where’d the lass go?” Killian asked this new waiter before he could stop himself. Sitting up straight in his seat,he watched the tall guy sweep his eyes over the blonde at his side, and he unconsciously gripped her fingers tighter between his.

“On her break,” he answered Killian’s question, shifting his eyes between the two.

“You’re yummy,” Mary Margaret drooled to the waiter.

“Mary Margaret!” David exclaimed, smiling at his wife with shock.

“Oh, but I’m married,” Mary Margaret told the waiter, her voice sad, until her eyes shifted to David. “Happily married,” she smiled at her husband.

“Nice save, Blanchard,” Killian jested.

“It’s Nolan now, Jones. You should keep up,” Mary Margaret answered sincerely.

“So?” the waiter repeated, tapping his pen against his order pad, his brows lifting in question.

“Sorry,” Emma said to him with an enticing smile. She turned to David.

“I’ll just have another beer,” he answered, leaning back against the booth with an amused look on his face.

“Mary Margaret?” Emma turned to see her new friend seriously inspecting her fingernails.

“Uh” Mary Margaret said looking up at the blonde.

“What would you like to drink?” Emma asked with a laugh.

“I don’t know,” she answered with a shrug, and then leaned over the table a little and whispered loudly to Emma. “The words won’t keep still on the menu.”

“Okay,” Emma laughed at the obvious drunken state of the slight girl. She picked up the drink menu and quickly scanned it again. “She’ll have a Watermelon-berry cooler.”

“And you?” he asked invitingly.

“I’ll have a Beach Bum,” she grinned back to him.

“That can be arranged, babe,” the waiter replied.

“Her name isn’t babe,” Killian growled from where he was sat between Emma and the waiter, and the guy actually took a step away from him.

“And a Corazon, as well,” Emma added, passing the menu to Killian, her eyes narrowing at him.

“I’ll just have a beer,” Killian huffed to the guy, staring menacingly at him.

“Can you bring him a Milagro Select Barrel Reserve, as well, please?” Emma asked the waiter, her fingers gently caressing his where they held each other.

“Sure,” the waiter smiled, and turned to fill their order.

Once he had left, Killian turned to Emma. “What was that?”

“What?” Emma asked with shrug of one shoulder.

“You were flirting with the surfer poster boy.”

“I was not,” she lied, her eyes shifting to Mary Margaret.

“Oh, you were, girl,” Mary Margaret grinned, not helping.

“I wasn’t, I’m trying to get a cut on our tab,” she reasoned. She turned to Killian. “Do you really think I would flirt with a guy with you sitting here next to me?”

Killian shrugged his answer.

“But he was sooooo hot,” Mary Margaret sighed, trying to be helpful. “And he obviously likes you.”

“Mary Margaret, you’re not helping,” Emma said low, leaning over the table slightly. “And you,” she turned to Killian. “You were flirting with that woman in Starbucks earlier.”

“I was not,” Killian exclaimed, trying to pull his hand away from hers, but Emma wouldn’t relinquish her hold.

“Killian,” Emma said gently, turning her body to his so she could look at him, it doesn’t matter who we flirt with. What does matter is that we are here with each other, in this moment in time and that we will be together for the little time we have. No amount of flirting with insignificant others will change that.”

“Insignificant?” Killian asked her, his smirk finally coming back.

“Absolutely,” Emma answered. She moved closer to him, snaking her hand up and around his neck to bring him in for a tantalizing kiss.

“Nice save,” Mary Margaret whispered to David, snuggling up beside him.

When the waiter returned with their drinks, Mary Margaret giggled at the disappointed look on his face at the sight of Killian and Emma still kissing passionately. He placed their drinks in front of them and with one last look at Emma, he left.

“Ooooh, what’s this?” Mary Margaret grinned as she picked up the colorful drink in front of her.

“That is what Emma ordered for you, so be careful. God knows what’s in it,” David said, his fingers sweeping delicately across her forehead and moving a few strands of her fine hair from her eyes.

Emma heard her name and pulled back from Killian, her head swinging to the two sitting opposite her and Killian. “What was that?” she asked.

“I was just telling Mary Margaret you ordered this drink for her,” David explained.

Mary Margaret was sipping on the straw, her eyes wide at the taste of the drink and she waved her hand to Killian and Emma in a circling motion. “You may continue.”

“Thanks,” Killian replied, as if he needed permission, then grasped Emma’s face between his hands, and moved her back to him for another searing kiss.

“What did you say that for?” David moaned to his wife. “I don’t find it particularly entertaining to watch them make out.”

“Oh, hush up, David,” Mary Margaret admonished, taking another sip of her drink. “How often do you see Killian this relaxed?”

“Well, you have a point there,” David admitted as he lifted the beer bottle to his lips.

Killian caressed her cheeks with his rough fingers, and Emma shivered at his tender touch, she felt Killian smile against her lips at the reaction he was causing.

She pulled back slightly, her lips an inch from him. “You’re pretty sure of yourself, Pirate,” she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

“You forget, I know how well your body responds to my touch, Emma,” he answered her with a wicked smile, his own tone deep and sensual.

Emma closed her eyes a low moan escaping her caused by the swirling sensation she felt within; she sank against him helplessly, her head against his chest.

She opened her eyes again to see Mary Margaret and David watching them with matching idle grins.

“What?” she asked them.

David just shook his head, his smile still plastered on his face, and Mary Margaret sat a little straighter in her seat. “Nothing,” she squeaked out.  “This drink is sooooo delicious.”

“Let me try?” Emma asked, moving away from Killian. She missed his body almost immediately when she leaned over the table to sample Mary Margaret’s drink.

“Only a sip,” Mary Margaret warned her, her eyes intent on the level of fluid in the glass.

“Keep your panties on, _Mom_. I’m not going to drink it all,” Emma sniped good-heartedly before she took a drink. She handed it back with a smile, her eyes bright. “That is really good.” She slowly licked her lips, looking coquettishly at Killian.

He moaned low, and dropped his head to his chest.

“Something wrong, Killian?” she asked, patting his knee.

“Like you don’t know, love,” he growled out.

“Yeah, well, it looks like I know your body just as much as you know mine,” she boasted.

“Hey,” Mary Margaret called out a little louder than she intended. “There will be no talking about sex at this table.”

“Of course not, Mom,” Emma chuckled as she reached for her own drink. Then she slowly drew  the straw between her lips and sucked gently.

“You’re killing me here, Swan,” he moaned as he slumped down in his seat a little.

“Then get your mind out of the gutter,” she said after swallow her drink. “Here Mary Margaret, try this,” and she handed over her own glass for the other girl to taste.

Killian shook his head at them and lifted his bottle to his lips, taking a long drink.

Mary Margaret giggled as she handed to drink back to Emma and then picked her own back up.

“You do realize Mary Margaret may now be incapable of cooking Christmas dinner for us tomorrow?” David told her.

“What?” Killian exclaimed, sitting forward and looking at David in shock.

“You know how well she handles a hangover. It will be a miracle if we see her at all tomorrow,” David laughed to Killian.

“Ah, shit, Swan. Now look what you’ve done.”

“How is this my fault?” Emma asked, taking another drink.

“It was your idea to come here,” Killian replied.

“And you introduced her to tequila,” David added. “Mary Margaret has always been a little conservative when it comes to alcohol.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Emma answered with a smile. “She may have a killer hangover, but I have the killer cure.” She turned to Killian, “So don’t worry, Jones, you will still get your feast.”

“Oh, I hope so,” he leered, his eyebrows wriggling.

“Don’t be crude, Killian,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

“Erhm, guys?” David’s voice drifted over to them. Killian and Emma turned to see Mary Margaret slumped against him, her eyes closed.

“Guess the party’s over for Mary Margaret,” Emma said as she lifted her friend’s glass and took another drink.

“Best drink up so we can get her home,” David said, as he gently moved his arms around his wife, drawing her closer and trying to make her comfortable.

“You heard the man, drink up,” Emma instructed Killian. She lifted her own glass and drew the straw out. She tossed it over her shoulder and drank straight from the glass.

Killian smirked at her as he, too, brought his bottle to his lips, and Emma watched him drink his beer, as mesmerized as she had been that first time she had watched him drink in the parlor at the B&B. She knew he knew what his actions were doing to her, probably had known from the beginning, and their expressions matched when their eyes met, both conveying the same feelings.

Once they had finished their drinks, they lifted their shot glasses.

“To new friends,” Emma said.

“To endless nights,” Killian added.

David held up his cell phone in between the two small glasses. “To calling a cab and getting us home before you two rip each other’s clothes off and go for it on the table.”

Emma and Killian burst into laughter, then tossed their shots back.

\---

Emma woke to darkness, her hair sprawled out on the black satin pillow of Killian’s bed. They had returned to the B&B pretty quickly, and David had wished them both goodnight as he carried his sleeping wife off to their rooms.

Killian and Emma had lost no time in finding a bedroom. Killian insisted they used his this time, as he wasn’t sure how much more he could take of Emma’s _girly_ room. Now, he lay beside her snoring softly, almost soothingly. She turned her head to find the time and moved slowly from the bed so not to wake Killian. She grabbed the black shirt he had been wearing that evening, slipping it over her body as she gently opened the door and stepped out.

She bounced softly down the stairs, passed her own room, and continued down to the first floor. She quickly headed for the back door, praying that the Nolan’s didn’t have a security alarm on the door. Before opening the door though, she snapped back around and headed back to the parlor. The Christmas tree lights remained on, so she had a little light as she reached for the blanket Mary Margaret had placed over the back of the loveseat earlier.

She wrapped it over Killian’s shirt, and grabbing a pillow from another chair, she walked back to the kitchen. She reached for the door again and held her breath as she turned the knob and opened it. No insistent wailing hit her ears, so she felt safe to walk through, stopping herself again briefly to stuff her feet into a pair of worn slippers that had been left by the entrance. Judging by the size, they were David’s.

The night air hit her body, and she shivered but she continued out into the small backyard and over to a garden chair. Obviously, someone had been out earlier, as the snow had been brushed off the seat, and she placed the pillow on the seat, vowing to pay for any damages she might cause to the fabric. She sat on top of the cushion, bringing her legs up and wrapping the blanket around them, as well as her body.

She leaned back against the chair, tipping her head back and staring up into the clear sky. The snow had stopped falling a few hours earlier, and the clouds had quickly moved to leave a beautiful night sky, revealing the stars twinkling and the full moon shining brightly.

She sat there for about ten minutes until she heard the door open again, and she heard Killian’s voice calling out to her. “What the hell are you doing, Swan? It’s freezing out there.”

“I’m looking for Santa,” she said quietly, not wanting to wake anybody. She felt Killian move toward her.

“Did you say you’re looking for Santa?” he asked her.

“Uh huh,” she replied, her eyes still on the clear night sky.

“You do know he doesn’t exist, right?” he questioned.

“Shush, Killian,” she said quickly, finally turning her gaze to him. “If you say that, he won’t visit. And I, for one, want my presents.”

Killian chuckled at her as he moved closer. He grabbed her upper arms and lifted her out of the seat to stand on her feet. At her quizzical look, he shook his head and squeezed in behind her to sit on the chair, hissing as his t-shirt covered back hit the cold damp chair back. He tugged on the blanket that covered Emma, and she fell back onto his lap, his arms wrapping around her, tightening the blanket to keep her warm. He tilted his head up to the heavens, and Emma leaned her head back against his shoulder so she could look up again.

“Beautiful,” Killian whispered, his eyes watching the skies.

“Isn’t it?” Emma agreed. She moved in Killian’s lap trying to pull her legs up again, to stop the cold air from freezing them. The space on Killian’s lap was limited though, and as she wiggled to get comfortable, she giggled at Killian’s groan in her ear.  She eventually settled and leaned back against his shoulder again.

“Every Christmas Eve, I sit out waiting for that elusive glimpse of the big man. I have done this since I was 7,” she explained to him.

“Yeah, but winters in Florida are definitely not New England winters,” Killian answered her, rubbing her arms in an attempt to keep her warm. “I hope to God you have something on under that blanket, love.”

Emma took his hand and slipped it between the blanket so he could feel the cotton of his shirt. Killian smiled, seeming to understand that she was wearing his shirt.

He moved his hand further down beneath the blanket until he could feel the softness of her skin. “You only have my shirt on, that’s it?” he asked, shocked.

Emma nodded against his shoulder. “That’s why I stole Mary Margaret’s blanket,” she smiled.

“Emma, you are gonna catch pneumonia,” he said, concerned. As if to punctuate his fears, her body chose that moment to shiver violently.

“That’s it,” Killian growled and made to stand up.

“No, wait, Killian,” Emma stopped him, her hand moving to his chest, and the blanket dropped a little from it place around her.

Killian glanced down to see only a few buttons of the shirt were fastened. He had a perfect view of her breast, her nipple standing at attention because of the cold, and his hand fell over it. 

“Just keeping you warm,” he stated innocently, as she gave him a look. “Like I said Florida winters are definitely not New England winters.”

“I haven’t always lived in Florida,” she said, her voice small, and for a moment Killian hardly recognized it. “I actually lived here for a while,” she continued.

“Really?” Killian was surprised by that.

“Yep. I was found by the road side in Maine when I was a day old and placed in a group home here in Boston. As you can imagine, Christmas’ in group homes were not the most festive. Even though we all knew there was no such thing as Santa Claus, perfect parents, and happy endings, it didn’t stop me from sitting out on Christmas Eve hoping I was wrong. Hoping there was something out there for me, someone who could love me.”  She couldn’t believe she was telling Killian this, something not even Elsa knew about. But she appreciated the way his arms tightened around her.

“Emma…” He didn’t know what to say about her sad tale of her childhood, but found it ironic how they both had less than ideal starts in life.  

“Shhh,” she stopped him, cocking her head to the side slightly.

“What?” he asked, his ears straining to hear what she was obviously listening for.

When Emma finally heard the jingling of the sleigh bells, she smiled brightly to Killian. Killian looked disbelievingly to her as the sound grew a little louder.

“What the….” he started, but Emma didn’t let him finish. She quickly placed her hand over his lips, her eyes wide.

“You can’t curse when Santa is around,” she said sincerely. “Otherwise, you’ll only get a lump of coal.”

“It’s not Santa,” he mumbled against her palm.

Emma giggled at the sensation of his lips moving against her palm. “Of course it is,” she argued. “What else could be it?”

“A million things, Swan,” Killian answered, but his eyes did trail back to the skies when the jingling got a little louder.

“I don’t care what you say, Killian,” Emma pouted. “It’s Santa.”

She turned to him a little more so she could kiss him lightly on the lips.

“Now, take me back to bed,” she playfully demanded.

“Oh, I can most definitely do that,” he replied, his words thick with promise. Killian moved forward on the chair, then stood with her in his arms, and they headed back inside.

….

 

 


	6. December 25th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas fellow OUAT fans. I hope this day brings you everything you wish for and more. 
> 
> Sixth installment of my christmas fic. Almost there now! 
> 
> Thanks for the continuing support on this, for the kudos and the comments. I especially like it when people let me know what they think of my story lines and my writing style. Keep 'em coming, guys. Make my Christmas extra special. :) 
> 
> Huge thanks again to ilovemesomekillianjones and her never-ending support of a new CS author. It means so much to me that you took a chance on looking over my fic and decided to become me awesome beta. I hope this partnership continues into 2017.

December 25th

Christmas morning brought the snow again, and Emma was ecstatic as she bounced into the parlor to see David already there, building the fire. “Merry Christmas,” she called out and she heard a groan coming from the armchair to the side. She looked closer to see Mary Margaret curled up in the chair, her hand holding her head and a painful look on her face.

“Sorry,” Emma whispered, an apologetic look on her face.

“Merry Christmas,” David returned as he crossed the room, and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Hey,” Killian growled as he entered to room. “Kiss your own girl.”

“Not so loud,” Mary Margaret mumbled from her chair.

“Ah, Blanchard. You have a hangover?” Killian asked with a grin, not bothering to lower his voice as he moved closer to Emma and pulled her away from David.

“I’m dying,” Mary Margaret lamented dramatically, shifting a little in her seat, and then groaning again, her hand moving back to her head.

“You’re not dying,” David said gently to her. “You just wish you could.”

Emma smirked as she leaned back into Killian’s embrace, watching as David moved over to his wife, and crouching down beside the chair, he asked her, “Do you want some more water?” 

Mary Margaret looked up and gave him a weak smile and a very slight incline of her head. Her eyes swung accusingly to Emma. “How do you not have a hangover? You drank way more than I did?”

“Because my body is used to it,” Emma smiled. “I’ve been drinking tequila since long before I was supposed to.”

Mary Margaret swung her eyes to Killian and with sadness said, “I don’t think I’ll be able to cook today, so you and David will have to take over.”

“Time to bring out that secret hangover cure, Swan,” Killian said to Emma and practically shoved her in the direction of the kitchen.

“Hey,” Emma cried out indignantly. “No pushing.”

“Snap to it, love. I’m hungry,” Killian answered her, but smiled to take the sting out of his words.

“You’re always hungry, Jones,” Emma huffed.

“That’s because you give me a truly magnificent workout,” he replied with a lopsided grin.

“Oh yeah,” she countered with her brow raised. “So what was your excuse before we started having sex?”

Killian shrugged, the smile still on his face. “I have a powerful hand and vivid imagination.”

“Oh, that’s gross, Killian,” Mary Margaret cried out, and Emma giggled. “There are some things a girl just doesn’t need to know about her best friend,” Mary Margaret finished.

“So, David, can you help me sort this drink out for Mary Margaret?” Emma asked, and David nodded, leading the way to the kitchen.

Mary Margaret looked skeptically at the thick, greenish-yellow fluid in the tall glass that Emma held out to her.

“Is that supposed to make me feel better or worse?” she asked the blonde, reluctant to take it from her.

“Trust me,” Emma smiled. “It’ll be bad for a minute, but it will help.”

Mary Margaret looked up to her, then tentatively took the offered glass from her. “Okay,” she relented and leaned forward to take a sniff.

“Don’t smell it,” Emma said quickly, her hands held out to stop her and Mary Margaret snapped her head back quickly, and then groaned, wishing she hadn’t.

“Why?” Mary Margaret questioned her face showing her concern.

“Trust me,” Emma repeated with a laugh. “It will only make matters worse if you smell it. Just drink it. Straight down.”

“All at once?” Mary Margaret swallowed nervously.

Emma nodded, an encouraging smile on her face.

“Come on, Blanchard,” Killian moaned. “Just drink it already. I want my presents, and I want my breakfast.”

“You know, you can go, and make yourself something,” Emma said as she turned to him.

“It’s Christmas!” Killian exclaimed as if that would explain everything. “And I’m a paying guest here.”

“So you keep reminding us,” David laughed.

“Emma?” Killian pleaded in a slightly whiny voice.

“I’m not making you breakfast,” Emma answered him with a shake of her head.

“And after all that I gave you last night, this is how you repay me,” Killian returned, his eyes wide in mock shock.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. I gave as good as I got, and you know it,” she smirked back.

“David, please stop them,” Mary Margaret whispered. “I can’t handle all this talk about their sexual antics just now.”

“Just drink that, and you’ll feel better,” David answered softly, his eyes swinging warningly to Emma and Killian.

All eyes were on Mary Margaret as she cautiously brought the glass to her lips, then lifted her hand and pinched her nose between her thumb and forefinger. She squeezed her eyes shut as she gulped down the thick liquid.

They continued to watch her, and she took several swallows after she had finished the drink, as if she was trying to keep the fluid within.

“Oh my God, Emma,” she said at last, her face contorting into one of disgust. “That is the most revolting drink I have ever had.”

“Yeah,” Emma answered with a wrinkle of her nose, remembering the numerous times she had forced herself to take the drink. “But believe me, you’ll be thanking me and promising to name your first born after me soon.”

Mary Margaret handed off the empty glass to David and settled back against the comfy chair, her eyes closed, and she licked her lips slightly.

“How about I grab us some coffee while we wait for Emma’s magic potion to work?” David asked the group.

Killian grunted his positive response as he slumped down onto the loveseat.

“I’m sure what Mr. Jones means is, Thank you, mate. That would be just divine,” Emma said in a poor imitation of Killian’s accent to David with a smile.

“Yeah, Emma,” David laughed. “I’m sure that’s just what he meant to say.” And he left the parlor to fetch the coffee.

Emma moved around the room to sit next to Killian on the sofa, and her eyes drifted to the Christmas tree and the presents underneath it. Her eyes sparkled when she saw there were more presents than the ones she had placed there yesterday. “Are some of those for me?” she asked Killian excitedly.

“Maybe,” he grinned to her. His hand shot out as she began to stand, stopping her from wandering over to the presents under the tree, and he pulled her back onto his knee.

Emma turned her body as Killian moved her back so she could sit astride his thighs, and she took his face between her hands, looking deep into his eyes, hers sparkling with excitement. “Did you get me a present?” she asked him. She was overwhelmed. The people who bought her presents she could count on one hand, and that number had decreased by one three months ago.

“Maybe,” he repeated, his hands falling to her hips and guiding her body closer to his. 

She couldn’t stop her body’s eager response to his touch, and she smiled as his hands slid up her back and back down again, her body tingling where his hands had been. His lips grazed over hers playfully, and Emma moaned as he teased her. He eventually deepened their kiss, and Emma moved against him unconsciously… Until a pillow thumped against her head, and she whipped her lips away from his, turning to see who had thrown the projectile at them.

Mary Margaret grinned at her. “I said no sex,” she told them, her eyes laughing.

“Does it look like we are having sex?” Killian growled out.

“It looks like five minutes away from having sex, so yes,” Mary Margaret replied sternly.

“Killian,” David’s voice drifted in from the kitchen. “Can you give me a hand?”

Killian groaned miserably as Emma moved away from him, allowing him to stand and head for the kitchen.

Emma took this opportunity to sneak over to the tree and inspect the new presents there. There was a medium sized box wrapped in bright red paper with glittering snowflakes and a huge silver bow, along with a smaller more compact bundle in the same paper. The last gift was a rectangle shape covered in gold. She looked back to Mary Margaret and grinned, then reached under the tree for the rectangle present, lifting it and feeling along the edges. She gave the parcel a sharp rattle, her ear straining for any noise it might omit. She wondered why there were no gifts under the tree for Mary Margaret or David, apart from the ones she and Killian had placed there, and also, nothing from the Nolan’s to Killian. Maybe they didn’t put presents under the tree like she did. It was something she’d longed for as a child and so she’d made a childish vow she would do it as an adult.

“He’s going to miss you, ya know,” Mary Margaret told her.

Emma turned, sitting on the wood floor beside the tree, to look at her. Mary Margaret’s face looked lost and concerned, obviously for what her friend would go through when they parted.

“I’m going to miss him, too,” Emma replied honestly. She had tried hard not to think about tomorrow when she had to leave Killian, but she couldn’t turn down the opportunity for work. Not since Neal had taken half of her savings.

“If I ask a question, you won’t get upset with me?” Mary Margaret asked nervously.

“Ask away,” Emma answered with a wave of her hand.

“Why?”

“Why?” Emma repeated, confused by Mary Margaret’s question.

“Why get so involved in such a short time when you know it would only be for a few days.”

Emma looked at Mary Margaret, searching her mind for the right answer to that.

“I’m sorry,” Mary Margaret said quickly. “I don’t mean to pry, but to those of us on the outside…” she paused, before continuing. “You two look extremely happy and so connected. I've never seen Killian so contented, and I just know what’s going to happen when you leave.”

“What will happen?” Emma asked in a small voice, moving closer to Mary Margaret by the fire, though remaining on the floor.

“He will go into destructive mode. Not talk to anyone and shut himself away in his office at the brewery.”

“Has this happened a lot?” Emma couldn’t stop herself from asking, not sure if she really wanted to hear about Killian’s past girlfriends, but then, this was just a fling, right? Somehow, she didn’t believe herself with her last inner statement.

“Only once. And I’m sorry, it’s not my story to tell you,” Mary Margaret answered.

Emma nodded, understanding Mary Margaret’s need to protect her friend. “I don’t want to hurt him, but he knew before we took that final step when I was leaving,” Emma said. “Believe me, I’m not handling it all too well at the moment, either.”

“So why willingly put yourself in that position?” Mary Margaret asked, her brows furrowing in question.

“Because life is full of little moments and you have to take whatever you are given in this life, whenever the opportunity arises. Killian and I may only have a couple of days, but believe me, Mary Margaret, it will be something I will remember for the rest of my life. From now on, no one will measure up to Killian, and I mean that in a completely non size-orientated way, of course.”

“Of course,” Mary Margaret giggled.

“Well, someone sounds better,” David said cheerfully as he and Killian returned with a tray of coffee and mugs.

“Yeah, Emma’s trick really worked. I hope you managed to see what she put in that drink?”

“Of course,” David beamed as he handed her a cup of coffee.

Killian eyed Emma suspiciously from her position on the floor beside Mary Margaret’s chair.

“Have you been sneaking a look at the presents, lass?” he asked her.

“No,” she replied too quickly and smirked when she saw that Killian didn’t believe a word she said.

“Here,” he grinned back and passed her coffee to her.

Emma raised her cup in the air and said, “Merry Christmas!”

This was echoed by the others in the room, and they all took a sip of their coffee.

“Shouldn’t this be champagne?” Killian asked.

“Not yet, Killian. Please,” Mary Margaret groaned.

Emma placed her cup back on the tray and looked toward Killian. “Can we open our gifts now?”

“Sure,” Killian answered, his smile matching hers.

“Wait,” Mary Margaret said, her hand moving out and stopping Emma from moving. “David, you need to bring ours down.”

“You mean to say Santa didn’t leave them here last night?” Killian laughed out, his eyes gleaming mischievously at Emma.

“Oh, pipe down,” Emma grinned back, knowing he was mocking her for her childish Christmas Eve tradition.

“Is this something you need to share?” Mary Margaret asked when David left and made a run for their rooms.

“No,” Emma answered Mary Margaret, though she smiled to her.

“Love, Mary Margaret might want to know why one of her custom upholstered pillows is still out there in a chair, covered in snow,” Killian said, and he sat back down on the loveseat, his legs stretched out in front of him, gently tapping her thigh with his toe.

“What!” Mary Margaret exclaimed, her eyes darting between the two.

“I will pay for any damages,” Emma said quickly to Mary Margaret.

“Does this have anything to do with sex? ‘Cause if it does, I don’t want to hear about it,” Mary Margaret replied, wrinkling her nose.

“Sex in the snow?” Emma asked, not sure what Mary Margaret was thinking.

“Now that’s kinky,” Killian grinned.

“And an effective way to melt the snow,” Emma added. Her mind wandered to places it shouldn’t while she was in the company of others, and before she could stop herself, her head tilted a little as she looked at Killian.

“Swan,” Killian warned, already used to that look in her eyes after only two days.

“What?” Emma responded, snapping out of her thoughts, a blush tinting her cheeks immediately.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he said in a sing-song voice, and Mary Margaret actually laughed at Killian’s behavior.

“Here we go,” David announced as returned to the parlor his arms full of presents.

“Yay,” Emma exclaimed gleefully, clapping her hands.

David bent and arranged the presents under the tree, then stood back, arms folded across his chest, a gleaming smile on his face.

“Looks pretty good, eh?” Mary Margaret said as she stood and walked over to her husband, her arms sliding around his waist. David nodded as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder and they stood side by side, admiring the tree.

Emma grinned at them as she moved closer to Killian, leaning against his legs, and Killian moved his hand down to hers. Emma looked up to him when he squeezed her hand. When he smiled down to her, her heart leapt, and then ached with a loss she hadn’t experienced yet.  She shifted her eyes away from him. She knew it was going to take a great deal of strength when it came to her departure tomorrow, and she wished, not for the first time, she could just stay here forever.

Killian seemed to instantly know where her thoughts were going as he leaned forward and gripped her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. “Don’t think about it,” he said simply, and she imagined the sorrow in his eyes was echoing her own. Emma gave him a thin, watery smile before he leaned down and kissed her lips gently. She desperately wanted to hold onto him and never let him go.

“Are you ready for your presents?” Killian asked when he had pulled away slightly.

She beamed at him. “Presents! As in more than one?”

“Come on, love,” and he tugged on her hand, helping her to stand.

“Okay, you two. Hand out the presents,” Killian said to his friends.

Emma moved excitedly over to the tree and watched as David kneeled again and started looking through the gaily wrapped objects.

Soon, they were sat in various places around the room, Emma again on the floor besides the loveseat where Killian was sitting and she smiled at the small group of presents that were set in front of her. She wasn’t used to having so many gifts and was surprised to see that not only had Killian bought her a couple of things but there was one from David and Mary Margaret as well. She was glad she had the foresight to get them something, too.

Emma couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer and grinning to the others, she tore into the presents in front of her, her eye half on Killian as she watched him tear the paper from his own gifts.

David and Mary Margaret had bought him a dark grey zip hoodie and a T-shirt saying _‘The Beer King’_ and he expressed his thanks with a smile.

Emma grinned as they opened the pewter hurricane candlestick holder she had bought them. When she had seen it she thought it would look perfect in the parlor of their B&B, fitting in well with the old furniture they dressed the room with.

In return they had gotten her a Boston snow globe and shot glass, along with a lifetime VIP voucher for their B&B. She hugged them both at their thoughtful gifts, vowing to return often to visit them. She then moved onto the gifts that Killian had bought for her as David and Mary Margaret continued to open their presents from each other.

“Killian,” Emma grinned as she pulled the paper off a white box, painted with blue to look like a house, “you bought me a Build-a-Bear.”

Killian just nodded at her and watched as she pulled the box lid open, laughing at what she found inside. Emma reached in and pulled out a tan colored bear that was dressed in a pirate’s outfit, including hook. “Oh, Killian,” she cried joyously. “It’s a pirate.”

Killian just grinned at her as she turned the bear over in her hands, looking at it from all directions, pulling on the tail that protruded through a hole in the trousers, and the ears sticking through the tri corner hat. When she reached the bear’s right paw, she squeezed, knowing that was where the sound box would be. Killian’s recorded voice filled the room. “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

She grinned at him. He had said her name, and now it was immortalized forever for her to hear whenever she pleased.

He moved over and reached into the box to pull out the birth certificate that came with the bear and handed it to her to read. She glanced at the paper and smiled when she saw the name Killian had given the bear – Captain Hook. And Captain Hook belonged to Emma Swan.

Her eyes drifted up to his and he whispered to her, “So you don’t forget me.”

Emma swallowed the gulp of sadness that filled her at that moment and felt her eyes fill with tears at the thought of what would happen tomorrow. She quickly pulled Killian in for a hug so he couldn’t see her tears. “Not gonna happen,” she whispered back, willing her eyes to remain dry.

After she had composed herself, she pulled back, plastering a huge smile on her face. “I love it,” and she hugged to bear to her chest.

“Okay, open one of mine now,” she instructed him and watched as he reached for one of the gifts she had given him. What came out of the paper was a black t-shirt with a gray picture of a tall ship with Boston written on the back to commemorate the city in which the tee had been bought.

“Hey, I love ships,” he said with a smile.

“I know,” she grinned back. “I do listen when you talk you know.”

“Your turn,” Killian told her, passing her another present. This one was smaller, bulky, and squishy.

Emma settled her bear on the sofa next to her real pirate and tore the paper off this new gift and was presented with a new winter accessory set: a hat, scarf, and gloves that were red, with white snowflakes on them.

“Sorry you lost your other ones. I know you loved them.”

Emma couldn’t stop smiling as she tugged the hat on and wrapped the wool scarf around her neck, inhaling the scent of the fabric deeply before turning her attention back to Killian who was watching her with an amused grin on his face.

“Your turn,” and she nodded to a medium size gift.

Killian reached for it and unceremoniously ripped the paper off, aware that David and Mary Margaret were now watching him.

He was faced with a white box and when he opened it he pulled out the wine-colored shirt she had needed assistance to buy.

“I hope it fits,” she said nervously. “I had to get a sales assistant to help me. Luckily you walked past the store at the right moment. She was really good at her job.”

Killian looked at the size in the back of the shirt. “Looks good to me. Thanks, love,” he smiled as Emma reached for her last gift.

He shook his head at her slowly before speaking. “Swan, maybe it would it better if you opened that in private,” he smirked to her.

“Why?” she replied skeptically.

“Because I don’t want to give David a coronary,” he answered cryptically.

Emma looked at David quickly and then back to the present in her hands, and her eyes lighting up when she remembered seeing him coming out of Victoria’s Secret yesterday.

“Okay,” she grinned to him and she put the present on the sofa beside him.

Killian pulled his last gift onto his lap, and Emma looked nervously at him, nibbling on her lower lip.

Killian unwrapped the paper to another white box, and when he opened it, he looked inside and then up to her.

“It’s a little lame,” she said low and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, then looked back down into the box.

It was a wooden Keepsake frame box with elaborate writing above the frame saying “Boston Memories.” Inside the box, which was visible through the glass, was a flyer advertising Skating on Frog Pond at Boston Common. Below that were their admission tickets and a piece of paper with Emma’s full lips imprinted upon it in deep red lipstick.

Emma had searched through his jeans pocket to retrieve the tickets while Killian had been showering the day before, hoping he wouldn't realize she had stolen them.

Killian placed the box on the sofa, then stood, reaching for Emma as he did, pulling her to her feet, his eyes holding hers intensely, and Emma felt her tears well again at the raw emotion in his eyes.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice low and raspy as he took her face tenderly in his hands and brought her lips to his.

He kissed her gently, not forcing anything, just gliding his lips softly over hers as if he was worshipping her and that alone was enough to cause Emma’s body to shake slightly and her legs give way from under her. Killian moved his hands quickly from her face and lifted her before she could fall. He held her tightly to him, and their kiss deepened and became something more, more passionate but with a growing feeling of desperation that time was running out. He let her feet touch the floor again as the need for oxygen became an issue, they moved apart but panted as one, as they both struggled to control their breathing.

“It’s perfect,” Killian finally said. “You’re perfect.”

“No, I’m not,” Emma whispered back. “Anything but.”

Killian shook his head, not wanting to hear her words. “For me, you are perfect.” And he kissed her again before she could argue with him again.

Emma sensed movement and moved away from Killian again to see Mary Margaret and David trying to creep from the room.

“Sorry,” Emma said to them, her eyes stinging with unshed tears, and she saw that Mary Margaret’s were glistening too.

“I’m going to start breakfast,” Mary Margaret sniffled.  “You take your time.”

“I’ll help,” David added, following her out of the room, after a quick nod to Killian.

A few hours later, and after a huge breakfast, made special with David’s pancakes, Emma and Killian were again walking through Boston Common, hands interlaced, as the snow fell silently around them. Emma marveled again at how quiet the snow made everything seem. Despite being surrounded by roads; it was peaceful and beautiful and Emma sighed with happiness. She was wrapped snuggly in her new hat and scarf, and Killian hadn’t even moaned when he pulled his weird hat on.

Emma suddenly tugged on Killian’s hand pulling him from the walkway and into the snow-covered grass.

“What?” Killian grinned to her, seeing her beaming at him.

“I want to make a snow angel,” she replied simply, surveying the snow-covered ground before her, looking for a good spot to lie down.

“Swan, you’ll freeze,” Killian said, concerned.

Emma was not deterred by the gruffness of his voice, and she kissed him once before moving away and dropping to her knees in the snow. She shifted her weight to her bottom, sliding a bit on the snow and laid down, looking up expectantly at him before beginning to move her arms and legs to create the angel. She moved away to admire her work and smiled to Killian.

“It’s a beautiful snow angel,” he said with a smile.

“You’re turn,” she said as she quickly stood, ignoring the snow attached to her jeans and pulled on his arm again, moving them away from the original and pushed him so he fell backward in the snow.

“Hey,” he cried out heatedly, “I’m not flapping about in the sn…” but when she collapsed on top of him, he quickly stopped his protesting and circled his arms around her, and kissed her as the snow fell around them.

Emma’s mind whirled as she desperately clung to Killian, determined to capture this moment forever in her mind. She had the feeling she would need this memory to keep her going through the months it would take to move on from this connection she had with Killian. She finally removed her lips from his, smiling at him as he held her close. After a few minutes, Killian moved her from him and proceeded to create his own snow angel, Emma laughing at his antics. When he had finished, he turned his head to her.

“Happy now?” he asked her.

“Ecstatic,” she smiled back, then scrambled to her feet as the snow started to seep through her jeans again. She grabbed Killian’s hand and hauled him to his feet, then brushed the snow from her coat and jeans as he did the same with his own.

“Where do you want to head now?” Emma questioned him.

“I have an idea,” he replied, wriggling his brows at her.

“Killian, it’s Christmas day. I’m not spending the whole day in bed,” she laughed.

“Not even with me?” he probed.

“As much as that thought is extremely appealing, no!”

Killian grinned at her and grabbed her hand, leading her from the open area and back on the walkway. They walked a few moments in silence, each taking in the falling snow and the serenity of the scene, before Emma spoke.

“Where are we going?”

“Just walking. I don’t really think there will be many places open today.”

“Probably not,” Emma agreed as she moved in closer to him, wrapping her free hand around his arm that was holding her hand and walking as close to him as she could without them falling over each other’s feet.

Fifteen minutes later, and they stopped by the edge of a path on the Charles River Esplanade, looking over the Charles River’s peaceful water toward the magnificent stone buildings of M.I.T.

Killian brushed the snow from a bench and sat down, guiding Emma down into his lap so she wouldn’t have to sit on the wet bench. The snow had stopped falling halfway through their walk, and the space around them was quiet. There were very few people out, but every so often, they would see a flurry of activity; sometimes, a family would pass them by, out enjoying the snow on Christmas Day. Other times, it would be another couple, like them, out for a stroll in the crisp air or a single person hurrying along, clearly with someplace to be.

After a few moments, Killian broke the silence. “What will you do when you get home?”

Emma continued to look out over the river, the gentle movement of the dark water soothing and hypnotic. “I have a skip to hunt down. I should have started the chase before Christmas but I thought, what the hell, let him enjoy his last free holiday.”

Killian scowled a little and Emma asked, “What?”

“It’s not exactly the safest of professions,” Killian said.

Emma only shrugged her shoulders.

“Do you need a hand? Financially, I mean?” Killian asked her, not liking the thought of her mixing with criminals.

“What?” she exclaimed swinging her head quickly to face. “No, Killian.”

“I’m just trying to help you out, Swan,” he said in his defense. “Until you find something safer.”

“Thank you, Killian, but I’ll be fine.”  She snuggled down into his embrace, her head resting against his shoulder. “I’m good at my job.”

“Do you carry a gun?” he asked seriously.

“Yes, all proper and legal. I even have cuffs,” she grinned.

“Did you bring them with you?” Killian smirked.

“Why did I know those would be the next words out your mouth,” she laughed. After a pause, she asked, “What will you do when you get home?”

“Get back to work. Regina is great with the business, but I like to know what’s going on. I have a new beer that will need promoting and then launching. That will be one big headache.”

“So you’ll be pretty busy?”

Killian nodded, then rested his chin against her head.

“Will you miss me?” she whispered, her voice almost cracking with emotion.

“Aye, for as long as I breathe,” he answered honestly.

They sat for a while longer in silence, with Killian rubbed his hand up and down her jean-clad thigh, while Emma had worked her hand inside Killian jacket.

“Swan,” Killian broke their peace suddenly. “I think my ass is almost frozen to this bench. We had better get back to the B&B.”

Emma withdrew her hand from the warmth of his body and reluctantly moved from his lap, standing shakily to her feet before offering her hand to him and pulling him up.

Killian stood and automatically felt the seat of his jeans, turning so Emma could see the large wet area where he had been sat. She couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped her lips, and Killian whizzed around to look at her, his brows raised in question.

“Oh, you think it’s funny, eh?” he said to her, his eyes bright with humor as he closed the gap between them.

“Now, Jones,” she warned, holding her hands out to stop him advancing on her, her own eyes mirroring his. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what?” he grinned, making a fake grab for her and laughing when she fell for his ploy and moved to her left, straight into his other arm, and he swung her up, effortless, over his shoulder, walking purposely over to the water’s edge.

“Killian! NO!” she shrieked joyously, her legs kicking gently at his sides. “You don’t know how deep that water is. I could freeze to death.”

“Shouldn’t have laughed at me, then,” he answered her sternly, trying hard to keep the enjoyment from his voice. And he added a sharp slap to her behind.

When Emma gave a sudden intake of breath at the stinging slap, Killian stopped short and slowly brought her down in front of him.

“Sorry, Swan. Did I hurt you?”

Emma just shook her head and looked up to him. Killian grinned wickedly when he noted the darkened shade of her eyes.

“Oh, like it a little rough, eh?” he teased.

Emma simply smiled beguilingly and tugged on his hand. “Let’s go back, Killian. I still have a present to unwrap.”

“Aye. Then will I get to do some unwrapping of my own?” he asked her.

“God, I hope so.”

Several hours later, and Emma lay sprawled across Killian’s bed, he lay next to her, relaxed on his side, his elbow bent and his head resting in his hand.

The black, silky sheets were tangled around her lower body, and she again blew at a piece of wayward hair that annoyingly kept falling over her eye. The red and black satin and lace matching bra and panty set that was her final gift from Killian had been discarded haphazardly, coming to rest in front of the roaring fire.

Killian’s fingertips were idly tracing the tantalizing curve of her breast, and he watched as her nipple hardened with his soft caress, again, and chuckled low in his throat.

Emma turned her head at the sound. “What?” she asked.

He moved his finger and brushed the tip of her nipple with the pad, and she shivered, closing her eyes for a brief second. “Your body is so responsive,” he answered softly.

Emma looked down at his hand and then back to him. “Your touch is so stimulating,” she returned with a grin.

Killian moved his hand up and over her collarbone, under her chin and around to hold her face, his palm against her chin and his fingers winding into her hair by her ear. He closed the distance between them and kissed her tenderly, his hand moving back down her body once he had control of their kiss.

He was interrupted from taking it any further by a knock on the door.

“Killian?” David’s voice floated into the room.

Killian pulled back from Emma. “Mate?” he called back impatiently.

“Mary Margaret said dinner would be ready in five minutes,” David replied, ignoring the irritation in Killian’s voice.

“Okay,” Emma responded cheerily. “We’ll be right down.”

“We don’t have to go down,” Killian said to Emma and smiled when she laughed.

“You are willing to forgo food? A full Christmas feast?” Emma asked him.

“Emma,” he smirked, “there are few things I will miss my food for, sex with an incredibly hot woman is one of them.”

“What’s the other?” she asked, shifting closer to him in the bed.

Killian looked puzzled for a while and then laughed again. “Okay, I’ll rephrase that. There is only one thing I will miss my food for.”

Emma giggled as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her. “Then I feel very honored.”

“Yeah, you should,” Killian answered her before his lips landed over hers, his tongue demanding entrance, and his hand swept down her body again to rest against her thigh. The growling of his stomach pulled them both away with a laugh. “Okay, strike that. Get your clothes on. Let’s eat.”

Emma propped herself up on her elbows as Killian sprang from the bed, watching him move around the room, collecting their clothes. He truly had a magnificent body, and her own reacted to his, independently from her mind.

“See something you like, love?” he grinned to her as he turned to face her, giving her the full frontal view.

“Absolutely,” she answered, her tongue snaking out to lick her lips, and she smiled when he groaned at her action. “Ya know,” she continued, “I don’t think I’ve ever been told to put my clothes on.”

“Well, personally, I’m quite happy for you sit at the dining table as naked as you currently are, but I’m a highly jealous person, and I don’t want to share your body with anyone.”

“Yeah, and I think Mary Margaret would have something to say about it, too,” Emma responded.

“Yeah, she can be a little prissy like that,” Killian said as he finally stepped into his boxer briefs.

“Those fit you extremely well,” Emma observed from her position on the bed, still not making any movement, her head tilted to the side, appreciating that the tightness of the briefs defined every feature of him perfectly.  

“Yeah, and they will only get tighter as the evening goes on,” he grinned back, and Emma laughed, understanding what he was implying.

Killian bent and tossed her new lingerie set to her. “Come on, Emma,” Killian hurried her along. “I’m starving.”

Emma slipped her bra on, grinning at the easy way he said her name in private. She truly loved how special he seemed to make it, knowing she would never meet another person who could make her tremble just by murmuring her name.

She rolled from the bed and stepped into her panties and snickered when Killian groaned as she pulled the satiny material up and over her thighs, covering herself from his view.

“It’s almost as erotic watching you put them on as it is watching you taking them off,” Killian observed thickly.

“Killian, you haven’t seen me take them off. It’s normally you taking them off,” she reasoned as she lifted her jeans from where Killian had tossed them onto the bed.

Killian reached for his new shirt as Emma pulled her jeans on. “Can we stop at my room on our way down?” Emma asked. “I’d like to change into a fresh shirt.”

“Sure,” Killian agreed, snapping the tag from the shirt Emma had given him earlier in the day and slipping it on. “This feels great,” he said as the soft material brushed against his skin.

“Looks damn good, too,” Emma added, resisting the urge to move closer to him and rip it off again.

“Come on, Swan. Let’s go,” Killian grinned, having become accustomed to the darkening of her eyes and what that meant.

“You’re always spoiling my fun,” Emma grumbled good heartedly as she followed Killian from his room, leaving her boots behind hoping Mary Margaret won’t mind her turning up for Christmas dinner in her stocking feet.

They made a quick stop at her room and Emma swapped her T-shirt for a white silk shirt, knowing that Killian would catch glimpses of the bra he had bought her through the delicate material, and that it would drive him insane throughout their meal.

They entered the dining room, and Emma smiled when Killian held his hand against his heart. “Mate, can I marry your wife?” he asked David.

“I think that’s illegal,” David laughed.

“Yeah, and where would it leave me?” Emma asked as she, too, eyed the table laden down with food.

“You can be the hot secretary I nail on my desk whenever possible,” Killian replied easily.

“Oh, be still my heart,” Emma drawled as she moved over to the table and moved a chair back to sit down.

Mary Margaret walked through then with a large serving platter. The turkey on it big enough to feed twenty.

Emma smirked at the look on Killian’s face, thinking it was almost identical to the one he gave her when she was naked.

“Wow, Mary Margaret,” Emma said, “this all looks great.”

“Thanks, Emma,” Mary Margaret answered, sitting down opposite Killian.

“I feel really guilty that I didn’t help out,” Emma said remorsefully.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret leaned forward a little. “You are a guest in this B&B, and I wouldn’t expect you to help out cooking dinner.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t a simple dinner,” Emma replied.

“Mary Margaret loves to cook,” Killian mumbled. “Let her do what she loves.” He turned to Mary Margaret, giving her an impatient look. “Can we eat now?”

“Sure,” Mary Margaret grinned, glad her friend would never change.

Emma blinked as she slowly opened her eyes, the muted lighting in the room confusing her for a minute, until her mind wandered back to their evening.

They’d had a fantastic dinner, Killian practically eating everything on the table. Then Emma talked Killian into helping clear the table, while David rinsed the dishes and loaded the dishwasher.

The small group of friends spent the next few hours together in the parlor, talking about everything and anything, then they played a game of Trivial Pursuit, accompanied with several bottles of wine, beer, and Killian’s ever faithful flask of rum. Killian had eventually carried Emma back upstairs to his room just before midnight.

Now she lay out on her stomach, her right hand curled against her cheek and the left down her side. The sheets tangled between her legs again, leaving her back exposed. She moved her left arm slightly, expecting to feel Killian beside her, and when her fingers brushed the cold pillow, she lifted and turned her head to find his side of the bed empty.

“Killian?” she called out quietly, lifting her head from the pillow in confusion. 

“Here,” she heard him say softly, and Emma moved in the bed, twisting onto her right side, her head resting on her arm bent at the elbow.

Killian was sitting in a chair by the desk with a large book open in front of him, his hand moving slowly over the page, his eyes intent on the paper.

“What are you doing, pirate?”

“I’m drawing,” he answered her.

“What are you drawing?”

“You,” he said hesitantly.

“Why?” she questioned, not moving.

“Because I thought me snapping pictures of you while you are sleeping naked with only a sheet wrapped around your hips was bordering on creepy.”

Emma moved her arm, propping herself up so her head was resting in her hand.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” she admitted.

“There is a lot about me you don’t know, love. Can you lie back down, please?”

Emma smiled as she complied with his command, bringing her head back on top of her arm again.

“Are you naked over there?” She asked him with a cheeky smile.

Killian just nodded, his eyes intent on the paper as his hand continued moving, detailing her prone form with a pencil.

There was silence for a while as Emma studied him, his hands seemingly flying over the paper, his eyes flickering up to her every now and then. After a while, he looked into her eyes and asked, “What time's your flight?”

Emma swallowed sadly at his question. “11:20, I think.”

Killian remained silent again, continuing his sketch in silence, and soon, Emma felt her eyes drift close again as sleep dragged her back under.

The next thing she was aware of was the feel of Killian’s rough hand as it caressed her thigh in wide circles, moving higher with every stroke, her eyes opening and her body reacting immediately to his touch. She moved under him onto her back as he lowered himself over her body, neither of them talking, their eyes not moving from their intense gaze.

Killian maneuvered himself between her legs, which she spread wide to accommodate him, clamping them around his hips to hold him close. He entered her slowly, seeming to deliberately take his time, making every sensation he created within her linger. Emma’s heart ached at the sorrowful look in his eyes but she refused to relinquish her hold of them, needing to have this deeper connection with him to see her through the many lonely nights that were in her future.

They continued to move against each other, torturously slow, and the only sounds in the room were the blissful moans and soft whisperings of names, and all too soon, Emma felt her world explode as Killian pushed her over that glorious precipice, and she tumbled into ecstasy.

Killian held her close to him, her body tucked neatly in front of his, and not for the first time, she was overwhelmed at how well they fit together. “Can’t you stay another day?” he whispered, his voice so low she almost missed it.

Emma choked back her sorrow before she replied, wanting to stay strong. “I can’t. Elsa will send the National Guard if I’m not home Killian.”

Killian didn’t answer her, just nodded against her shoulder, and she lifted her hand to wrap around his neck.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, wanting to turn and face him but she knew if she did, it would break her. She didn’t want to see the pain she could imagine being mirrored in his eyes.

“Don’t,” he rushed out. “Don’t be sorry for giving me the best few days of my life.”

Emma closed her eyes at his hoarse voice, not wanting the tears to fall but knowing they would, and she tightened her hold on his hand that was wrapped around her waist.

“You don’t regret this, do you?” Fear evident in his voice as he mumbled his question.

Emma shook her head quickly. “Not at all,” she squeaked out as a fat tear rolled down her cheek and splashed onto his arm.

“Don’t cry, Emma,” Killian soothed, his fingers tracing small circles against her hip.

Emma sniffed a little, trying to retract her tears, but she couldn’t and another one fell.

“I don’t want to be the one to make you cry,” Killian continued, tightening his hold on her.

“It’s not you,” Emma whispered. “It’s the situation.”

“But we knew this when we started,” Killian stated, and Emma nodded her agreement.

“Go back to sleep, Emma,” Killian instructed her.

“I don’t want to,” she replied stubbornly.

“Morning is gonna come no matter what,” he reasoned.

“I know, but I don’t want to waste this time sleeping,” Emma answered him, then stifled a yawn.

Killian smiled behind her. “Okay, love. Stay awake.”

And Emma nodded her head, her eyes already closing and her body relaxing as Killian continued to stroke her thigh.

…

 

 


	7. December 26th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last installment of my Christmas CS fic. 
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has taken this journey with me. I hope you have enjoyed every minute of it as much as I enjoyed writing it. And thanks for your comments and kudos.
> 
> Last time to say huge thanks to ilovemesomekillianjones and I hope to work with you again on many more CS projects. 
> 
> Now, I'm just gonna duck and hide and, hopefully, miss all the projectiles I know that will be heading my way!

December 26th

Emma woke slowly, her eyelids fluttering several times before she focused on Killian’s chest. She had turned in her sleep and settled herself securely against him, her head resting on his shoulder, right arm across his stomach and her leg nestled between his. Her gaze lifted to his face, and she smiled at the serene look she found there, a sight she was sure she could happily greet every morning for the rest of her life. His lips were parted slightly as he breathed deeply in sleep, and she lifted her hand to brush her thumb lightly over their plumpness. She closed her eyes, her mind racing with the way they felt when pressed against her, soft and demanding at the same time, almost to the point of torture. Killian shifted in his slumber at her touch, and she quickly snatched her hand away, watching as he flicked his tongue out, almost as if trying to follow her fingers, and he licked his lips.

Emma held her breath, hoping she hadn’t woken him. She needed a little more time before they started their day: Time to contain her emotions and steel herself for the pain she knew they would both face when she climbed on that plane and flew away from New England later that morning.

Thankfully, Killian settled again, his arm around her tightening slightly, and she let her hand wander back down to his chest as she watched his eyelids move in sleep. Under her hand she could detect the steady beat of his heart and listened carefully to the soft thump, her own echoing his in a synchronized rhythm.

She hadn’t noticed her hand begin to move, the hairs of his chest tickling her fingers and she smiled at the sensation as she stroked slowly over his chest. When a pad of her finger grazed his flat nipple, it instantly responded. Her palm slid down his torso to his large hand, where it rested idly on his stomach, and she caressed his fingers with her own, the feeling of his rough skin in stark contrast to the softness of hers. Despite the dire events the day would bring, she smiled. She would never forget his hands. To look at his hands, a person would never know how tender they could be, the way they made her feel when he held her close, how they completely dwarfed her own hands, or how safe they made her feel. Unconsciously, her fingers roamed lower passing his navel to tangle in the soft downy hair running downwards.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, Swan,” his soft voice echoed through the stillness of the room, and Emma couldn’t help the low chuckle that rumbled in her throat.

“Oh, I can finish it, pirate,” she returned with a smirk as she rolled herself to lie completely over him. “The question is, can you handle it?” She let the ‘T’ pop just like he had, but she didn’t let him answer, catching his soft lips instantly with hers. She kissed him deeply and slowly, her mind buzzing with the knowledge that this would be the last time they would be together like this, the last time her body would tremble from his touch, the last time she would be consumed by him completely, and her heart ached. Ached more than she ever thought possible.

As she moved down his body, a wicked smile on her face and her eyes intent on his, her own body quivered slightly. She needed this last time to be different from the tender love making they had done during the night. Something where her emotions wouldn’t get the better of her, something to hold on to, and as she thought this, she almost laughed at herself. It was a little late to worry about her emotions getting the better of her, they were all over the place every time Killian simply looked at her, never mind that feeling she had when he was buried deep inside her. Sometimes she felt his very soul was trying to merge with hers and she was sure, during the night, he had achieved that.

How was she supposed to live without him now?

Emma looked around the parlor one last time, a wistful smile on her lips as she envisioned Killian sitting in the corner with his flask of rum, watching her when she first entered the space six days ago.

She cleared her bill with David, and was waiting for Killian to bring her suitcase downstairs.  Her shoulder bag was seated by the door with her laptop securely in it, and she laughed when she thought she hadn’t even taken it from the bag. The head of her pirate bear was protruding through a gap in the leather because she couldn’t bear to stuff him into her suitcase, and she felt she might need the comfort of the soft teddy during the flight home.

“Emma, I’m going to miss you so much,” Mary Margaret rushed at her and drew her into a warm hug.

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Emma admitted and returned her embrace.

“You will come back and visit again, won’t you? It’s lovely here in the spring,” Mary Margaret informed her with a half-smile.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said, and turned to see Killian marching down the stairs with her suitcase in hand and an emotionless expression on his face.

“Are you ready?” he grumbled, his eyes avoiding hers, and Emma shifted her feet nervously.

“Uh huh,” she replied before turning back to Mary Margaret. “Thanks for giving me my best Christmas, Mary Margaret.”

“You’re welcome, and thanks for everything you’ve done,” Mary Margaret returned, her eyes drifting to Killian.

Emma followed her gaze, and then smiled weakly to Mary Margaret.

“You have my number, right?” Mary Margaret asked Emma as Killian began ushering her out the door.

“I do,” Emma confirmed. “And, of course, you have mine?”

Mary Margaret nodded. “Bye Emma,” she said sadly.

“Bye Mary Margaret.”

And then she was out the door, the shoulder strap of her bag in her hand, and Killian’s hand on her elbow, guiding her to the car.

“As much as I’d appreciate you missing the plane, love,” he said, “we are gonna have to hustle if you want to make it.”

“Well, if you’d have let me get out the bed, we wouldn’t be rushing,” she grinned, trying hard to lighten the feeling of impending doom she was feeling.

“I let you out of the bed,” he mumbled.

“Only to trap me in the shower,” she laughed.

“Just get in the car, Emma,” Killian growled out, and Emma stopped, her face showing shock at the tone of his voice.

“There’s no need to act like an ass, Killian,” she returned, hurt that their last moments together might include an argument.

Killian tossed her suitcase in the back of David’s SUV, slammed it shut and turned to her. “I’m not acting like an arse.”

“Yes, you are,” she retorted sharply.

Killian took a deep breath and scratched his eyebrow before he looked at her. “I’m sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

Emma stepped closer to him, “I know that, Killian. I’m feeling it, too.”

“I know,” Killian acknowledged and reached for her carry-on.

Emma surrendered the bag, and watched as he placed it on the back seat. Then he turned to her, pulling her flush against his body.

“This hurts more than anything I’ve experienced,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

Emma just nodded against his chest, not trusting her own voice to answer him.

After a moment, he patted her ass. “Let’s go, Swan.”

They made it to the airport in no time, and Emma thought this was only fitting, considering her situation and reluctance to arrive in time for her flight.  Most of the time, it took forever to drive to the airport. Now, when she desperately wanted the time to move slowly, in a flash, they were there.

Killian steered David’s Explorer around the parking garage, and Emma had a sneaking feeling he was purposely rejecting available spaces, drawing out their last moments together. When a triple space loomed in front of them, she watched his body sag slightly, and he reluctantly maneuvered the vehicle between the lines. After a second or two of sitting in silence, they climbed from their seats, and Killian collected her suitcase from the back as she reached for her shoulder bag. She joined him by the rear of car, and they stood facing each other for a minute, both hesitant to continue, almost as if trying to increase their chances that she would miss her flight.

Killian sighed deeply, rubbing his large hand over his face, then reached for Emma’s hand. She slipped her smaller one into his open palm, her long slim fingers entwining with his and they turned as one, heading off for the large departures terminal.

They checked her suitcase in with ease, and all too soon, they were standing beside the security gate, the point where Killian could go no further. His arms were wrapped around her shoulders, and she leaned into him, breathing in his scent one final time before heading to her gate.

“Thank you, Killian,” she whispered, so low he almost missed it.

“For what?” he asked, his voice matching hers.

“For giving me my perfect moment.”

Killian moved her back gently so he could look at her, his brow furrowed in question.

“Every girl wants a perfect moment,” she explained, moving back into his embrace so he couldn’t see her eyes. “A moment in time when everything is just right, you know? The mood, the man, and the perfect kiss.”

“And I gave you that?” he queried, and Emma nodded against him. “When?”

Emma smiled against his chest, her fingers reaching to curl around the collar of his coat as she lifted her head, her emerald eyes meeting his blue.

“Our first kiss on Frog Pond,” she answered. “That was a pretty spectacular moment.”

“Aye, it was,” he agreed, and after a moment, he added, “thanks for my perfect moment, too.”

Emma pulled away from him again, studying his features as a sad smile played on her lips. “Do men want their perfect moment, too?”

“Emma, men want that romantic shit just as much as the women do. We just don’t get all mushy over it.”

Emma gave a short snort of laughter. “You cannot use _romantic_ and _shit_ in the same sentence, Killian. It kind of ruins the sentiment.”

She watched as he looked intently at her, his eyes roaming her face, as if looking for some answer to an internal question.

“Don’t go, Emma,” Killian begged her, pulling her back to him.

“Killian,” Emma said softly.  “You knew this was going happen from the beginning.”

“Please. Just stay a little longer,” Killian continued, as if he hadn’t heard a word she said.

“I can’t,” Emma replied and swallowed a sob that was desperate to escape.

Killian pulled away from her quickly, holding her by her arms, his own outstretched. “Marry me!” he blurted out.

“What?” she asked, shock evident in her voice.

“You heard me,” he looked her over seriously before repeating. “Emma Swan, will you marry me?”

“Are you insane?” Emma laughed out nervously, her head swinging from side to side, hoping no one was paying any attention to them.  “We don’t know each other,” she reasoned.

“I know all I need to know,” he reasoned with his lopsided smile. “I know you love tequila, you cling to some childish belief in Santa Claus. I know you shut down when you’re nervous, and you have particularly sensitive areas behind your knee and on your wrist. And I know you have an orgasmic moment whenever I say your name. What more do I need to know?”

“I could be a homicidal psychopath, for all you know,” she stalled, her eyes wide at his list.

“Are you?” he asked with a smirk and a raised brow.

“No,” she smiled back.

“Well, then, stay with me, and marry me,” he repeated.

Emma sighed deeply, lowering her eyes to the ground. “I can’t, Killian. Please don’t make this any harder than it already is.”

She lifted her watery eyes to his, finally meeting his gaze, and Killian echoed her sigh.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” he breathed out. “This is just… I’ve never…”

“Yeah, I know,” Emma interrupted him. “I feel it, too.”

She moved her arms back around his neck and pulled him down to her for a kiss, a slow kiss that she poured all her emotions into, hoping he would understand just how she was feeling.

Killian didn’t try to deepen the kiss or to turn it into something more; he knew this was the end.

They sensed the moment together and pulled away, detangling themselves from each other, and as Emma took a step away from him, her heart broke, and she couldn’t stop the sob this time, or the tear that fell.

Killian reached between the gap that was now between them, his hand cupping her cheek. “Don’t cry, baby.”

Emma shook her head and a watery smile graced her lips. “I’ve had a great vacation, Killian. Thank you.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, and she forced herself to take another step away from him, the space between them widening. Killian’s arm fell to his side.

“I’ll never forget you,” he whispered, not sure if she could hear him as her feet moved again. Away from him.

“I’ll never forget you, either,” she answered him, and then she smirked. “You’re pretty unforgettable.”

“You, too,” he grinned back.

They stood facing each other, several feet apart.

“Bye, Emma,” Killian said.

Emma swallowed again as she saw a small tear fall from his eye, which he ignored.  

“Bye Killian,” and she turned quickly and moved through security before she really broke down, holding the rest of her tears until she was through the checkpoint and waiting at her gate to fly home. Away from Killian. Away from what they had shared together.

Emma secured her shoulder bag in the overhead compartment above her and slid into her seat by the window, brushing her hand angrily at her tears. She shifted around, trying to find a comfortable position and sighed as she rested back. She looked out the window, almost picturing Killian standing by some giant window watching her plane. She was quickly on her feet again, pulling her bag back down. She smiled sadly at the head of her bear and pulled it from her bag before reaching into its depths until her fingers clasped around the woolen object at the bottom. She pulled that free, too, and tossed it onto her seat, then struggled to return her bag to the compartment.

She settled again, fastening the seat belt around her as the plane prepared to take off, and she couldn’t stop the flow of tears that fell freely now.

“Are you okay?” a concerned stewardess asked her, handing her a small box of tissues.

Emma wanted to smile and say she was just fine, but she couldn’t. “No,” she sobbed, pulling a tissue from the box but not using it.

“Can I get you anything?” the kind crew member asked her, her eyes automatically sympathetic to Emma’s plight.

_Killian_ , Emma wanted to scream. _I want Killian_. But she shook her head, a ghost of a smile flickering across her lips. “Thank you,” she said to this stranger, who gave her a reassuring look, and then moved off to answer another customer’s call.

She looked out the window as she pulled Killian’s black beanie over her hair, not caring that she looked ridiculous, and wrapped her arms around her bear, holding him tightly. For the millionth time, she wondered if there could have been anything more between her and Killian, or if it truly was just a vacation fling.

No, she reasoned to herself. He was just a holiday interlude, and nothing else.

Wasn’t he?

…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... Thank you for reading. Look out for the sequel to Holiday Interlude coming to you in February.


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